


Duty Bound

by Royce_Clayton



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ANNNNNGST, Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Airheaded like a fox, Black Witch Georgiana, Chris is an Over-dramatic Ham, Dammit Yurio, Dark Lord JJ, Dark Lords Don't Have To Play Fair, Fantasy RPG AU, Festival Episode, I looked up Folklore AND Swear Words! YAY!, It was necessary guys, Just add 2 years to everyone's canon age, Kissing, Knight Otabek, Light Angst, Like...a little bit of gore?, Lonely Yuri, Lore - Freeform, M/M, MMM that tasty Sexual Tension, Magic, Monk Seung-Gil, Not for why you think, Now with more cat!, Parental Viktuuri is my jam, Ranger Yuri, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smol Tiger is Grumpy, Smol Tiger is Smol, Someone's gonna need an alignment check, Upping the rating for later, Victuuri (background), Viktor not Victor (to me), Violence, Yuri Finally Does a Fun, Yuri does not know how to Video Games, Yuri takes a level in badass, mythical creatures, otayuri - Freeform, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royce_Clayton/pseuds/Royce_Clayton
Summary: **On Hiatus**When Viktor and Yuuri suggest that Yuri needs to make other friends, well, it goes about as well as anyone could expect. They'd even recommended the online fantasy game, Abrean Aura, that they'd met each other through. Because Yuri wanted to be a big pile of goo like those two were?Still...he didn't have anything else to do that night. Fuck it.But our Little Ranger quickly finds himself in way over his head in a world of swords, sorcery, shining knights, and sassy-ass bar tenders. After a run in with the Legendary Knight in his fight against the evil that plagues the land, Yuri fights to stay close, to make a true friend, and maybe even more.





	1. Enter the Dumbgeon

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally a dream I had. It stuck with me, and I told the wonderful [Kitty_KatAllie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie) about it and she not only told me it was a great idea for a story, but immediately agreed to Beta, Edit, and Cheer Lead for me for the whole thing. For this, I owe her a thousand cookies and fingerguns. Please go and check her work out, she's super talented and I love her stuff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This chapter has been edited slightly to reflect the age change that was decided around chapter 3** If you're new here, welcome, and worry not, read on unhindered! If you're returning this is here as a heads up  <3

“Why in the hell would I want to do that?”

“Come on, Yurio, it really is a lot of fun, it’s where Yuuri and I met--”

“And again, I ask, WHY” 

“Well, what else do you have to do?”

*~*~*~*

 

This was stupid. This was beyond stupid this was...this was Katsudon-level stupid. Why the hell had he even agreed-he hadn’t _even_ agreed!

Yuri Plisetsky, age 17, sat down in front of his desk with a huff. Not that there was any other way the blonde knew how to sit these days. The world, at large, seemed to get under his skin in any number of ways.

His mentor, and mentor’s husband, were just a very special brand of tick that crawled in and never left. He _liked_ Viktor, the man was a genius at what he did, if a bit...well, a _lot_ of an airhead with anything else. And the Katsudon...Yuri would begrudgingly admit, in the darkest corner of his own mind, late at night, when the world slept, that Yuuri Katsuki was not the worst human being he had ever met. Yuri was Russian, he’d seen some heavy shit in his short years, so that still wasn’t giving the Japanese man much credit which seemed to make it palatable to himself.

But the two of them, together, _especially_ when they got _ideas,_ were just insufferable. It was either the ooey-gooey little nothings, or the horror of watching Viktor or the piglet...guh...get to know each other. Yuri had to imagine this was what most people went through when faced with the reality that their parents had, at some point, had sex. That was the bone-marrow-deep disgust that one Yuri Plisetsky held down inside for the actions of two people who should have been adults but devolved into giggling school girls within a 15 foot radius of each other.

Still, Yuri had almost no one else he hung out with. Viktor was supposed to be teaching him, that was always the excuse Yuri hid behind when confronted. Viktor owed him, and it was fun harassing the gentle, proper Yuuri who had some of the best reactions Yuri had ever experienced. Both of these things were true, and so, even in the face of bile-swallowing _cuteness,_ Yuri stuck around.

He pouted, he slouched, he generally appeared less like their student/friend and more like their recalcitrant teenaged son, but he stuck around. His grandfather was busy, more often than not, and the Nikiforovs weren’t.

So when _they_ started calling him out on his lack of a social life, he knew he’d hit rock bottom.

Which left him here, sitting in front of his computer, staring at a character creation screen for the online game _Abrean Aura_ , hating Viktor and Katsuki equally. And feeling stupid. Stupid for letting them get into his head, stupid for not having other friends, stupid for tapping his foot to the soft music that trilled in the background of the glorious fantasyscape he stared at...just...stupid.

Yuri snorted and let his fingers dance over the keys, filling in the blanks, muttering to himself under his breath the whole time as his online persona took shape. A Yuri Plisetsky taller, with shoulder length hair, pointed ears, and a fast hand. _GoldenYuriPlisetsky_ came to life before his eyes.

And then he logged in.

*~*~*~*

 

He would give the imaginary world around him this, it was pretty. Verdant fields stretched out beyond the low stone walls of the thatched roof village he stepped through the portal into. It gave off _quaint_ and _cozy_ like an ice rink gave off cold. People milled about the cobblestone streets, their clothes a rainbow of browns, greys, and greens, passing each other with a nod or wave at most in acknowledgement. Yuri’s own forest green cloak and leathers blended right in.

Not that he was particularly impressed on that front. For starters, leather was heavy, and while he rather liked the burgundy color of the thick armor, he struggled to think of a good reason why there had to be so much of it. Or why the shoulders flared out in slight curves, as they did. At least there was a nice burnished gold edging. Still, it was so much; a cotton tunic covered by the heavy leather that ended at his waist to meet a wide belt of the same, two straps crossing his chest that went up to his shoulders where the thick fabric of his cloak attached...somehow. He couldn’t really tell. Another, darker strap crossed him, leading behind to a heavy cylinder full of arrows-there was a word for that thing, right, damn it he couldn’t remember. He did feel a little trickle of pleasure at the _shicka shicka_ noise they made clicking against each other when he rolled his shoulders.

Why he had arrows but nothing with which to shoot them, he knew not.

“Part of the programming?” Yuri guessed, tilting his head a bit as the characters continued their intricate choreography around him. Like he wasn’t quite real to them, which, to be fair, at least made them even. Still, the teen wasn’t used to being around so many and not seen, it unnerved him, which of course morphed near immediately into annoyance. How was he supposed to “make friends” with a bunch of fake people? This was why he had told Viktor the idea was stupid.

He didn’t _need_ friends anyway.

Just as his hand dropped to his side, where his weapon sat on his hip, a flash of movement caught his eye. He turned his head and squinted through a narrow gap, too slim to be a true alleyway, between two brick buildings, and saw it again. Movement. Non-standard, unprogrammed, movement. And it was tall, and dark, standing out against the light mortar on the other side of it. Yuri watched it disappear from sight, then realized his body had started to trail after it without thought.

He was slim, even in this guise, and able to slip through the gap, cutting the distance between them in half, but even as he made it out of the tight space the tails of the figure’s cloak were just vanishing behind another corner. Yuri growled and raced after him, faster this time, actively hunting, taking the corner at a sprint and barreling right into a wooden door with a loud thud and enough force to knock him on his ass in the dust.

The door opened a second later as Yuri was picking himself up from the cobbles, an older man of about 20 leaning against the door frame and cocking his half-blonde, half brunette head to the side. Bright green eyes peered down, before full lips parted in a wide grin.

“Well aren’t you the cutest little thing.” The man straightened up and turned, motioning for Yuri to follow as he stepped through the doorway. “Come on in, tutorial time~”

Yuri stared after the man a moment longer before his curiosity got the better of him and he stepped inside. As he did, he seemed to pass through something like a thin membrane, and on the other side were all the noises you’d expect in a place like this-a tavern. He looked around him, craning his neck in search of the person he’d been following as he made his way to the bar counter, his host disappearing behind it for a moment before appearing at his elbow and leaning in.

“So, what brings you to my fine establishment, mm?”

“Ah…” Yuri looked the man over once more, focusing now. In all of his rich furs and colorful fabrics, he looked like some kind of well off type, not a single weapon to be seen; he had to be an actual player. But then, who played a Barkeep in a game like this? This was an NPC’s job, surely.

“Come now, darling, you’ll make a young beauty blush with a stare like that,” the barkeep fanned himself with his hand as heat rose to his cheeks, sparkles glimmering in his eyes. “I’m a married man you know!”

“Oh my god what NO!” Yuri’s eyes widened as he shouted, the pointed tips of his ears reddening. “What the hell?!”

“Ah well…” The barman sighed dreamily and leaned his cheek into his hand, batting his long eyelashes at Yuri. “Allow me an indulgence, if you will.”  
  
The older man snapped his fingers and rows of candles lit themselves in bizarre blues and purples along the round wagon-wheel style chandeliers dripping glitz from the ceiling, lighting the room without actually seeming to shorten any of the shadows that certain booths along the walls lived in. The colorful flames only enhanced the sumptuous textures of the fabrics and tapestries hanging along the walls, gems twinkling amongst it all like dotted stars in the nighttime sky. A sky further emulated along the ceiling, painted with a swirling galaxy that lazily twisted and dipped as it danced overhead. The majority of tables were empty of people, a few villagers scattered around talking amongst themselves but no other _people_ and certainly not the one he’d followed here. No one here but him to see the show.

Yuri started to turn his head back to the other player when there was a soft hiss and then one entire wall burst into glittering green flames, burning almost white-hot. The candles over head went out in a sudden _whoosh_ of air, the wall dissipating to leave a single word scorched and shiny in the stonework, a flickering crimson flame framing it as the only light source left.

**Giacometti’s**

He felt his mouth hanging open a bit and rushed to close it with a snap, his eyes shutting along with it. When he opened them again the room had returned to normal, mundane light casting shadows about everywhere, hiding the glamor that had existed but for a brilliant moment. He turned now and jumped as the man’s smirking face was only a scant inch from his own.

“So, what do you think?” His luminous eyes twinkled like the gems along his walls had only a mere moment before. “Not bad for a simple barmaster, mm?”

Yuri righted himself on his high stool and looked around again before narrowing his eyes at the man across from him.

“Giacometti...Christophe Giacometti?” Yuri hazarded a guess, then immediately regretted it as the shrill squeal of delight from the other man assaulted his ears.

“Little Yuri! You remembered me!” Deceptively strong and agile arms rushed out and grabbed hold of the blonde, and held on despite all the spitting and struggling of a wet cat. Christophe only cooed and nuzzled his stubbly cheek against Yuri’s smooth one.

“Let-Me-No-You-Have-The-Wrong-Idea--!!” Yuri hissed and flailed, even reaching for his dagger in desperation, only to have that very same dagger resting cooly against his throat.

“Now darling, don’t think just because I’m a working girl that I’m some damsel in distress, mm?” Christophe released his hold on Yuri but kept the blade resting lightly in his grip. It looked too natural against his long, skillful fingers. He smiled easily then flicked the blade, sending it spinning in the air to come to a stop standing point down right beside Yuri’s hand on the bar, the tip of the blade only resting against the wood rather than imbedded into it.

Yuri slowly looked up into Christophe’s eyes, then scoffed and turned his head away as he grabbed the dagger and resheathed it, adamantly ignoring the heat radiating from his ears.

“Do you molest every new player?”

“Just the pretty ones.”

“I don’t actually know you. I just hear Viktor and Katsudon talk about you a lot.”

“You wound me, I’ve been watching you for a long time, since you were small.”

“Lech.”  
  
“See, you do remember me.” Christophe laughed and leaned back, finally out of Yuri’s immediate space, then turned and grabbed a bottle off the shelf along with two tumblers. “So what treasure are you seeking, Little Ranger?”

“Is that what I am?” Yuri looked himself over again, blinking.

“You don’t even know that? You must have read the character selection screen.”

“It had a tiger.” Yuri said flatly. “I wanted the tiger.”

Christophe gave a long suffering sigh at the state of the world, filling both glasses with amber liquid and pushing one across the bartop. “Such impetuous youth today…” He downed his own easily then shrugged. “Well I suppose I have to take my duties seriously then.”

“I still don’t have a tiger.”  
  
“Be a good boy and I may tell you how to get one.”

“What’s to keep me from just logging out of this stupid game and never coming back?”  
  
“Well that depends,” Christophe gave Yuri a knowing look. “What brought you here in the first place?”

Yuri clenched his jaw, but remained silent. He didn’t owe Christophe anything, let alone the knowledge that this was his first conversation with a person outside of his immediate circle (well, triangle) in a solid month...maybe two. He grabbed the glass in front of him and pounded back the drink, hissing at the burn that lingered in his throat after. He hadn’t expected that kind of realism in the game world. The wink he received from across the bar told him the mystery would remain.

“Now, where was I? Ah, yes, so the basics.” Christophe leaned a hip against the bar and smiled. “Welcome to the kingdom of Abrea, a land of adventure, enchantment, and relief from the day to day drudgeries of your life. You’re currently standing in the finest tavern in all the land, located in scenic Nachalo, the Village of Beginnings. This is where everyone spawns in their first time. You’ll find everything you need here: armor, weapons, potions, scintillating conversation...you name it and you’ll find it, though at a very low level.” Chris heaved a sigh. “Trust me, spend more than a day here and you’ll have run the complete gamut of most conversation trees.”

There was a moment of thoughtful stillness before Chris perked up and waved the sudden ennui away. “Anyway, that’s all programmed in to get you to leave the safe harbor of the village and explore the world beyond the walls. Beyond there it’s all open land, quests, things to slay, people to save-or kill, it is all up to you. Though I must warn you,Yuri, the world is not without consequence.”

“Cheh. You’re not going to try any of that “you die in the game, you die for real” crap are you?”

“If that were the case,” Christophe’s voice dropped, softening, enough to make Yuri look up and blink. The candles overhead all flickered in unison, leaving the room shimmering between the light and dark. “Then we’d all be long dead by now. I’ve watched this world burn, Little Ranger...there is a darkness that can only be kept at bay for so long.”

The light flickered once more, the gloom lasting longer this time, matching the vacant sadness behind the barkeep's eyes.

“I can take on anything this dumb game has,” Yuri sniffed, “I fear nothing! Least of all some boss dragon somewhere. I’ll cut down anything that gets in my way.”

Christophe chuckled into his hand, the foul mood broken, and looked up through long lashes at the fierce warrior across from him.

“So you say. Perhaps you didn’t pick your Class in error after all.” He smiled fondly at the younger man, snapping his fingers. A lick of flame swirled in the air between them for a moment, unfurling like a blossoming rose before curling up and, with a soft _whoomph_ , solidifying into a rolled up bit of parchment, tied with scarlet and emerald ribbon, dropping into Christophe’s outstretched hand. He held it out to Yuri with a smirk. “You’ll be needing this.”

The young blonde took it and moved to open it, when a long, loud sound like a howling freight train meeting a furious dragon split the air around them, the force not only shaking the bottles on their shelves but sending the chandeliers overhead swinging. Yuri met Christophe’s gaze with widened eyes, shock evident, but only for a moment, before his mask fell back into place.

“What the hell was that?!”

Christophe shook his head. “He’s never attacked Nachalo before,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he looked up at the pendulous lights above.

“Who?!”

The older man’s face twisted, almost pained in his upset, as he answered, “There are no more than three capable of such power, it can only be the work of the Dark Lord.”

“Is this that big bad you were talking about?”

“He isn’t to be trifled with, Little Ranger, you’re no match for--”

“Ha! As if I’ll have any kind of challenge!” Yuri shoved the scroll into a pocket of his cloak and unsheathed his shortsword, grinning now, eyes gleaming with arrogance and the surety of the untried. He turned and rushed out through the door into the streets, letting the sounds of terrified villagers fill the space he’d vacated.

The barman stood there, frowning for a moment, before glancing to the side.

“Well, aren’t you going?” Christophe asked the shadows. “This isn’t like him. Attacking the beginners is...low.”

“We both know that he hasn’t been himself in a long time,” a low, steady voice replied, accompanied by the sound of someone rising, armor clinking as it moved. A tall, broad young man of dark complexion stepped from the gloom, the fire light catching a glint of shining metal from beneath his black cloak. His fine features were overshadowed by the deep frown he wore, as heavy as any chainmail, his sharp eyes locked firmly on the door Yuri had just run through.

Christophe gave a huff of exasperation. “As though I marched him off to the slaughter myself, hm? Otabek, there’s little that anyone can predict in Yuri beyond anger and bite.” He fixed the other with a firm look. “I know you’re not eager to meet with him again so soon after the bargain was struck, but surely you can’t leave this village to his mercy. You know he has none.”

The knight shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his armored hand reaching out and pulling a long broadsword from the aether with a flare of warm yellow light and a satisfying sound as its familiar heft met his grasp. He lifted it easily, bringing it to rest against his shoulder, meeting Christophe’s eyes as he flung his cloak aside to stand in polished silver armor, trimmed in golden sun.

“I know my duty.”


	2. Coup De Foudre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, ya'll! And have no fear! I am being kept dutifully on task by my lovely Beta, life just got in the way for this one. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **This chapter has been edited slightly, the only change was, I think, one word? to reflect the age changes. Carry on!**

The peace of the village was long gone by the time Yuri reached what must have been the town square. It was big and open, but before he could even begin to describe the fountain in its center, there was an almighty crash and the entire construct erupted up into the air. Water and bits of mortar and porcelain rained down over the area, raucous laughter echoing in its wake. Yuri’s eyes darted around looking for the source, unable to pinpoint it with the way it bounced along the walls,  serving to magnify the mind rattling sound to something maddening. The blonde could only clutch his ears, trying to block any part of it out as pain already started throbbing behind his eyes.

_A headache? a (virtually?) real headache?_

So really, Yuri never even saw the fireball coming until he was hit full in the chest with it. Packed with an immense amount of force, the attack shoved all the air from his lungs and lifted him off of his feet for a good second.

_Fuck I really can’t breathe!_

Rather than dissipate, the fire moved up from where it had connected, shooting past his face and up into the sky. The scorch of heat and the smell of burnt hair surrounded him as he landed on weakened feet and stumbled forward to plunk down on his knees. He was forced to try and catch his breath or face the black dots dancing in his peripheral. Air wouldn’t come so simply though. The spell had knocked the wind from him, leaving him gasping and coughing to regain some semblance of control.

The laughter came again, but closer, from an actual direction this time, and Yuri tried to focus even as his body remembered how to breathe. Through watery eyes he could make out the form of someone approaching, their stride nonchalant, their posture confident. It immediately irked him.

The vicious edge to the other man’s smile only fanned the flames.

He stopped well out of Yuri’s range, quirking an eyebrow, bright teeth gleaming, as he watched the ranger struggle to a crouched position.

“You must be new,” his voice was deep, amusement hanging off of every syllable.

Yuri clenched his teeth, then swore in Russian as he realized he’d lost his grip on his sword somewhere in his moment of distress. His arm shot out sideways to feel for it, but froze when the pointed tip of the other man’s blade pressed against the back of his hand, easily splitting the thin, flexible fabric of his glove. He could feel-fuck he could _feel_ -the sting of its sharp point graze his skin. Of all the places _not_ to have the thick protective armor. His eyes followed the long length of the thin sword up to a gleaming, golden dish shape with a wicked looking crown of inlaid diamond that hid his hand from view. Delicate pieces of metal spiraled out from it, flowing intricate waves that almost formed a cage around the end, a distinct “J” shape copied over and over.

He’d seen one of these before in a movie, something French his grandfather had been watching one night. He’d watched it run through a man in the name of vengeance like a train passing through a tunnel- smooth, easy, and clearly built for it.

His fingers twitched.

“Reason being,” the man continued, clearly content to have the conversation all on his own if Yuri wouldn’t play along, “you have no idea who you’re looking at, do you?”

The ranger’s eyes narrowed as he looked up into the other’s face, annoyed at the submissive position he’d landed himself in. He clenched his hand into a fist, muscles coiling, prepared to pounce like the mighty tiger he was.

“Like I have time for some stupid lackey!” he shouted as he rushed at the man in front of him. His balance was shot, but at least he managed to take up his sword again as his hand swept the ground in his charge.

Yuri lifted the sword high and swung at the man angrily, hoping to at least knock that smug look off the bastard’s face.

“A lackey?” the man snapped as he simply turned to the side, Yuri shooting right past him. With a deft movement, he slid his blade out and across the blonde’s ankle. The finely honed steel slit the leather of the ranger’s boot like filleting a well-cooked fish, sending him tumbling as the delicate ankle below gave way to the bite of the weapon.

The blonde tripped to a stop a few feet away, immediately clutching his ankle and already tasting copper in the air-and why did this shit feel so real?! He hissed as the man approached again, lifting his sword like a talisman to ward off his attacker. With a single lightning quick motion the man twisted that last line of defense out of his grip, sending it spinning across the cobbles well away from them both. And again he advanced.

“I’m no lackey, I’m your _king_ !” he growled, offense and anger rolling off of him now as he raised his weapon. Yuri could hear the soft _thwip!_ of the blade and slammed his eyes shut, throwing up an arm to take the blow on instinct.

_CHING!_

The attack never came. Instead the sound of metal on metal rang overhead, and Yuri slowly opened his eyes. His jaw almost dropped to the floor at the sight of another man standing over him, thick steel sword raised, blocking the thinner one.

“That’s enough, JJ.”

“Otabek!” The man, JJ, straightened up, pulling his sword back and smiling coldly. “What a pleasant surprise. Given up already? I expected more of a fight out of you!”

“What are you doing?” the younger knight, in literally shining armor, demanded.

The raven haired man scoffed. “I’ve been far too gentle with the people hiding here. It’s time they saw the truth.” His eyes narrowed as he looked past Otabek and at the player crouched behind him. “This one especially.”

Otabek glanced back, as if noticing Yuri for the first time. The blonde glared up defiantly at him, refusing to back down even at the focused attention of two clearly more advanced players. That just wasn’t who Yuri Plisetsky was. He knew it, and by the end of the day, by God, these two would as well. He reached a hand back and yanked an arrow from his quiver- _That_ was the word!- still keeping eye contact with the dark haired man looming over him. His other hand clenched around his dagger, ignoring his injury in favor of defending himself. He may not have a sword, but he was far from unarmed.

“Adorable, he thinks he can make a difference,” JJ mused. His dark eyes began to glow red, magic radiating and flowing like a wall of flames around him, oppressive and breath-taking. “Why don’t I show him just how wrong he is?”

The sky overhead responded to his power, clouds forming from nothing and darkening high above the village.

“The fuck?” Yuri stared, mouth agape.

Thunder rolled through the air, shaking the earth. Otabek gave a deep sigh.

“What the _fuck_?!”

A pillar of flame the color of blood jumped from cloud to cloud, an angry serpent circling its prey.

“No, but _what the_ **_actual fuck_ **?!” Yuri demanded, gesturing with a wild hand at it all while glaring hard enough to burn holes through his guardian’s back.

Otabek swore and turned, grabbing hold of Yuri’s arm and hauling him up as he jumped across the square in a single leap that left the stone underfoot cracked and broken behind him. They landed on the roof of one of the houses that ringed the open area, Yuri snarling as his weight was forced onto his already injured ankle. A massive chunk of rock struck where they had stood in the next instant. It burst apart, flinging fiery shrapnel out in a wide radius of destruction, shattering windows and punching through walls like they were nothing. More screams rose up from inside the nearby homes, now that not even they could provide enough protection for the citizenry.

“Oooootabeeeeek~” came that insidious, mocking voice, once more amplified and booming after them. Even from that distance, the two could see JJ’s exultant grin. “Are you running~?”

“Give me your bow,” the knight snapped, holding his hand out to the blonde beside him without taking his eyes from the evil catcalling below. Yuri only stared at him. “Do you _want_ to see this entire town razed around us?!”

“I can’t give you what I don’t have!”

“That’s no fun at all, Otabek,” JJ lamented while the clouds roiled and seethed above them, the serpent coiling before the attack. “When did you get so boring?”

“What do you mean you don’t have one?!” Otabek shouted, glaring at the smaller man.

“Blame this stupid game for not giving me one!” Yuri spat back, half of his voice lost to the roar of thunder.

“ _It’s_ **_NOT_ ** _the_ **_game_ **!”

Lightning, yellow and jagged, struck the rooftop beside them, illuminating the dangerous look in the knight’s eyes as it crashed. Eyes that mirrored the dancing element within.

“ _There_ you are, Altin, there’s my soldier!” JJ’s self-satisfied words managed to rise over the rest of the din.

Electricity snapped through the sky, cutting across the path of JJ’s flames and colliding in a burst of deafening snap, hiss, and spit. JJ let out another laugh. Otabek moved behind Yuri and grabbed his left wrist, clenching it hard enough to force him into dropping his dagger before stretching it out far in front of him. Yuri stared at his thin pale arm laid out in the air side by side with the other’s armored one. Otabek laid his hand over the back of the blonde’s open one.

“Call it.”

And through all the chaos, the blare, the _noise_ , the warrior’s breath whispering against his ear made Yuri’s face _burn._

“You can see it. Call it.”

He felt the weight of Otabek’s body behind him. Everything else drained away, leaving his eyes to rest on the place their hands met. In a flash of light something solid, heavy but comforting, came to be in his hand. A bow, only about as long as one of his arms, curved at the ends, and lovingly crafted, sank into his grasp. A sense of peace traveled through him for a brief moment, before the anarchy returned, bigger, brighter, louder than it had been before.

But standing between his own bow, and the strength at his back, Yuri felt no fear.

Thin, pale fingers moved of their own accord, gripping the thick bowstring. They drew back. Yuri felt a cold sensation rush through him, from his core down to his fingers, and there an arrow formed from water to take its rightful place. A blue haze settled over his vision,and only the heat of the moment kept him from panicking. His own elemental power welled up from within to flow and turn around him, but Yuri’s sights remained firmly set on JJ below them.

“Ohhh,” the evil ruler said. “A little water sprite, is it? Come then, nymph, take your shot! See what all your power can do.”

JJ lowered his sword and held his arms out, leaving himself wide open, self-assurance pouring off of him in waves. Yuri’s eyes flashed, righteous fury now an engulfing whirlpool in the center of him, dragging away any other thoughts. Something shot over his arm, leaving a sharp stinging pain and then tingling numbness in its wake. When it reached his hand it jumped, electricity arcing out to meet his arrow just as he loosed it.

The bolt cut through the air, eating the distance between them, and inside, Otabek’s electricity danced, frenetic and eager.

JJ’s smile disappeared. His eyes shuttered as his mouth became a thin line. Something between disappointment and anger sharpened his movements as he stabbed his rapier straight into the oncoming arrow. The arrow burst, soaking the proud man head to toe, while Otabek’s lightning centered on the blade and raced its length. There was a loud snap that echoed in the square as it met and bit into the Dark Lord’s hand, the water doing its job to send the current over the entirety of him at once.

A bright light engulfed him, shooting upwards into the sky and piercing the thick clouds. A sunbeam shot down in its place, and standing in it, wet but unharmed, was JJ.

“What the FUCK!” Yuri screamed, throwing up his arms.

JJ was no longer standing in the square.

“Move!”

Before the command could even be processed, JJ was there, filling Yuri’s vision, black eyes flat and empty. He grabbed for the Ranger and Yuri tried to scream-in the game _and_ out of it--

But there was a rush of howling wind filling his ears, whipping his hair, and the very distinct-why, the hell, had they programmed _this_ -sensation of someone trying to tug his stomach out through his nose. And Yuri hit a ground that felt soft, smelled loamy, and tasted like dirt.

His virtual taste buds were not amused.

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the sliver of blue sky visible through the thick canopy of treetops. Tall trunks plunged down from the green clouds, rooting at least a hundred feet below to the same ground he now laid on. His brain was having a hard time restarting, even as his stomach decided to keep its contents to itself. Yuri wasn’t particularly eager to find out just how real the vomit physics here were-especially given how authentic everything else was. This was...nice. Peaceful almost, if not for the fact that he was pretty sure he was supposed to be dead.

Stark terror shot through him, forcing him to sit bolt upright and jerk his head from side to side. All he could see were trees, densely packed in, old looking trees. They were in some kind of clearing, a small circle of thick undergrowth but at least free of those looming, ancient-looking timbers. In the very center of it jutted a broken column of marble, slowly being overtaken by lichen that naturally flourished in the humidity.

Otabek sat upon it, eyes locked on something he held in an bare, ungloved hand. Yuri caught a glint of something, a shimmer of light, before he closed his fist over it. The two lifted their heads as one, eyes meeting.

“What--”

“We’re safe here.” The knight tilted his head a little, then amended, “For the time being.”

“This is too fucking insane,” Yuri couldn’t help the shake in his voice. His body was still dumping adrenaline into his system from the near-death experience.

“Look, give it a few minutes and I can take you back--”

“Go _back_?!” Blue-green eyes widened, and a slightly crazed laugh slipped free. “Oh you have got to be kidding me. 

The Ranger stomped towards Otabek, an advancing typhoon approaching the coast and looming over the seated man.

“I don’t want to go _back_ , I want **_out_ **!” Yuri hissed. “I am logging the fuck out and never looking back on this crazy place full of cheating bastards!”

The knight only looked up, face calm and giving away nothing. “Try.”

“What?” Yuri blinked, leaning back, his eyes narrowing while his brow wrinkled.

“You heard me,” Otabek crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “Try.”

“ _Fine_!”

The blonde ranger stamped his foot and then went still.

As a minute passed Yuri’s face grew redder, his fists clenched harder, and finally he let out a yell of pure anger as he grabbed the collar of Otabek’s armor. He snarled at his inability to lift the other from his perch, and so instead got in his face.

“ _Why can’t I_ **_leave_ **?!”

“Because,” Otabek remained unphased, “you can’t log out until you’ve saved for the first time.

“ **_WHAT?!_ ** ”

“It was designed that way because literally the first thing any villager will teach you is how to save. It’s coded that way!” Otabek huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s just your shit luck that you managed to run off half-cocked into a battle-which you had _no_ chance of surviving, by the way-without talking to a single NPC who could have helped you.”

“So then teach me now!”

“Tch,” Otabek stood, pushing Yuri’s hands away and holding up two fingers. “One, I’m a player, not a programmed citizen. Two, we are _nowhere near_ a save point! We’re in the middle of Obscurité!”

“So how did we get _here_ then?!”

The knight lifted his hand, a cord unraveling to dangle a round pendant between them. It was circular, but jagged around the edges, made of some kind of glittering black stone. A series of rings led to its center, like the age lines of a tree, and there a small symbol was etched in emerald green. Yuri blinked.

“It’s a Jump Stone,” Otabek explained. “This let us Jump from Nachalo, but--”

Yuri grabbed the magical item, squeezing it hard and shaking it harder.

“Take. Me. Back.” he ordered the stone. “Take me back or I swear to all that is fucking holy--”

“It won’t work--”

“GAH!” Yuri screamed and hurled the stone at Otabek’s stupid face.

His instinct was to duck-and even as he logically realized that that was a terrible idea his body had done so-and the stone flew by his head close enough to skim his cheek. Before he could even turn to see where it went, he knew it was too late. Yuri, though, got to watch as the gem hit the solid trunk of a tree at the edge of the clearing. It shattered on contact, erupting into a cloud of iridescent shards that seemed to hover momentarily, before falling harmlessly to the ground.

There was silence then, as if every living thing in the forest held its breath in anticipation. Neither player moved. A soft breeze from nowhere blew through the trees, picking up the shining dust and sending it flying away past the both of them.

“--until it recharges.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [royceclayton.tumblr.com](royceclayton.tumblr.com)


	3. Ah Sue Ming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **a quick heads up, there was an age change here. The characters are all 2 years older than canon, the past two chapters have been edited to reflect this**
> 
>  
> 
> Heyyyy guys. Sorry I'm super late, this chapter was really tough to get out. But with lots of encouragement and help from my beloved Beta it's finally here! And AS LONG AS CHAPTERS 1 AND 2 COMBINED! So, yes it's late, but it's hopefully very worth it!

Otabek let go of Yuri’s ankle and stood himself back up, tucking a hand into his cloak and pulling out a rounded glass bottle of glowing red liquid. He tossed it carelessly at the blonde and turned before Yuri could even scramble to clutch it in both hands, satisfied that the wound from JJ’s sword wasn’t tainted with anything like a tracking spell.

“Hey!”

“Drink it and you’ll be fine.” Otabek’s eyes scanned the surrounding trees, catching the smallest hint of movement from his peripheral that meant there were far more dangerous things lurking unseen.

“How do I know it’s not some kind of poison or something?” Yuri may have sounded petulant, but he was already uncorking the bottle.

“What kind of person doesn’t recognize the most generic looking healing potion?” Otabek rolled his eyes and added a muttered, “deliver me from n00bs.”

It was almost worth it to hear the teen gag at what Otabek knew, from experience, was the specialized flavor of cherry Nyquil with the viscosity to match. Oh, it did its job impeccably, but the game was all about laying consequence on actions, even the most mundane. There was a flash of light behind him. The next moment, the ranger was standing beside him.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, arms crossed over his chest and eyes decidedly averted. When the knight made no reply, green eyes sparkled in annoyance as they turned on him. “What are you looking for?”   


“Not  _ for _ ,” Otabek whispered, lowering his stance and tightening the grip on his sword. “ _ At. _ ”

Before Yuri could even begin to ask, the sound of snapping branches shut his mouth. He felt his body stiffen, a droplet of cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck into the collar of his armor. His hand flew out instinctively, trying to summon his bow once more even before his mind caught up enough to focus it into being. It had been too busy recalling the Dark Lord’s incensed expression as he had reached out for Yuri’s throat.

A discordant sound, one long painful note, filled the space around them. It dipped, lulled, practically skipped around them, as the owner of the voice moved in the trees. The sound of branches, leaves, and underbrush casually waltzed through matched the bizarre movements of the unseen cry. Just when Yuri was ready to scream himself to break the sound, a figure burst through the treeline and gracefully flew into their midst. 

She was lean, with long flowing skirts of blacks and purples layered over each other seemingly endlessly. Peeking out from beneath were long black high-heeled boots that ended in pointed toes.  Gauzy sleeves dripped like candle wax from where they cinched half way down toned muscular upper arms, ending in exaggerated bell sleeves cut in sharp flame-like curves. Bared, creamy shoulders led the eye from them down into the plunging neckline laced over and over again to give peeks at the soft skin of her small chest down her abdomen and to the line of her waist. 

Startlingly luminous blue eyes stared out from a face pale and painted with a broad brush, dark pallette, and –  if the haphazard, vicious strokes were anything to go by –  in a pitch black room. It gave her one of the most fearsome faces Yuri had ever seen –  and he knew a fair few Madame  Russian ballet instructors with bitter love lives –  and left her looking far more masculine from the neck up than her outfit would ever let on. And it did little to hide her age, which must have been at the far end of twenty.

She parted painted-blue lips and Yuri’s self-preservation screeched.

“Whoa whoa whoa, no!” The blonde waved his hands, his bow disappearing in the distraction. “No, no more of that,  _ no! _ ”

The witch blinked in shock, then frowned, turning her face to the side and biting her knuckle as water twinkled at her lashes.

“How cruel,” she whispered, voice tremulous and low in her attempt to keep her tears at bay. “How very, very cruel…!”   


“Ah shit,” Yuri muttered. The last thing he needed was some lady crying at him –  this was worse than dealing with his fans already!  _ Women _ ! 

He looked aside to the other man for some kind of assistance, but found the dark-haired asshole was just standing there watching him. He had some kind of funny look on his normally expressionless face, too, some lurking humor no doubt at –  Yuri was sure –  his expense. Apparently watching Yuri deal with a crying woman was the height of hilarity in these woods.

“Look, lady, don’t cry, but for fuck’s sake don’t... _ sing _ ...either. Okay?” Yuri rubbed his eyes, feeling tired like he never had before in his life. “I already almost died today, I really don’t need this shit.”

“Well, of course you almost died!” She crossed her arms, which only served to emphasize her less than stellar bosom. “You’re a complete newbie, just stepped off the character creation screen if I’m any kind of judge, and you’re in Obscurité!”

“I don’t even know what that means, but I’m getting damn tired of people yelling it at me,” Yuri said, tone and gaze flat.

“It’s one of the highest level places in the whole game, kid!” she snapped back. “There’s tree bark in this forest that could kill you in one hit!”

Her bright eyes rounded on the silent knight and she pointed an accusing finger. “Shame on you for – ” and she fell silent. Her gaze swept over Otabek once, twice, then she took a step back. “Holy hell, you’re – ”

“Nobody important.” The warrior’s tone made it clear that this was a fact, and would remain as such, or else.

“...right.” She frowned, raising an eyebrow at him. “Nobody.” She cleared her throat and turned to Yuri once more. “You’re in strong enough company, at least.”

“Who, this asshole?” Yuri hiked a thumb over at Otabek, face incredulous. “He’s the reason I’m here in the first place! He magic’ed us to this little piece of hell.”

“Long distance teleportation spells aren’t a thing in this game.” The lady tilted her head. “So just take the Jump Stone back.”

Crimson splashed over the blonde’s face, further darkening when Otabek’s snort of derision reached his ears. He felt the need to flail in outrage send tingling spiders of frenetic energy under his skin, but he refrained. No, instead his head tucked down a bit into his shoulders, and he suddenly found an extreme interest in the moss some ways away from them all.

“Ohhh dear,” She bit her knuckle again, this time stifling giggles that welled up from her core. “Someone was clumsy? 

“Someone got impatient,” Otabek clarified.

It was hopeless trying to fight them back now; her laughter spilled out, lightening even her dark face into something youthful and pretty. The knuckle morphed into a whole hand over her mouth, her voice now high and modulated, like one of those high-society evil aristocrats in movies. Yuri felt two feet tall and aflame, embarrassed to the point of pain.

“Hey, shut up, I don’t know anything about this kind of shit okay?! And he wouldn’t  _ explain _ anything!” He felt his anger surge upward. “Who the hell are you anyway?!”   


She held up a finger in the ranger’s face as she got herself under control, then rose to her full height. She wiped tears from her long lashes, and Yuri noticed her makeup was still flawlessly in place.

“I’m Georgiana, though most only call me the Black Witch of Obscurité.” She dipped her head in slight greeting.

"Witch? Like...Black Witch doesn't sound that good." Yuri eyed her suspiciously. "That's black magic stuff? Are you with that JJ guy?"

Her eyes widened, a look of deep unease passing behind them before they were carefully shuttered to hide it.

"No." She practically bristled, and Yuri would swear her hair floofed out like an agitated bird. "I have nothing to do with that – that –  _ beast _ ."

"Alright, alright, don't go getting mad at me," Yuri waved his hands. "I just came from a run-in with him, so, yeah, gonna be a bit suspicious when some evil witch – "

"I'm not evil, child, and I'm deeply wounded you think I am!" Georgiana put a hand over her heart and lowered her head, hurt. Her shoulders began to shake as her hands traveled to her face, to hide what Yuri could only assume were tearful sobs. 

"But–" 

"A witch is a female magic user here," Otabek spoke up. As amusing as the spectacle was… "Alignment has nothing to do with it." 

Yuri tilted his head quizzically, blonde hair falling over one eye. "Oh." 

"My lady if you would be kind enough to excuse us, we really must be on our way," the knight bowed his head. "If you'll accept his apology–" 

" _What_ apology –" 

"The one you are to offer right  _ now. _ " And again, Otabek’'s gaze cemented the statement.

Yuri huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, stubborn reaction firmly ingrained before it even occurred to him that, well, he  _ had  _ insulted the lady.  He wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to apologize to a stranger.

"I'm – "

"Ohhhhh!" She flew at him, enveloping him in her arms and chest and skirts, and there was nothing his eyes could see beyond black and purple fabric. He flailed out of self preservation alone, his hindbrain convinced he could drown in all the flowing material, but she only tightened her grip. "You're so so sweet! Thank you, you're of course forgiven!  _ A lady should never hold grudges _ !"

Yuri's head swam from the heady scent of backstory in those words alone, and his fight or flight response only ratcheted up higher. "Let. Go." He could feel her levering his feet off the ground.

"Oh!" She dropped him, and Yuri staggered back in dazed relief and unstable acceptance. "Oh, we have to add each other! We can be allies! Here, here let me send the invitation."

She ferreted around in her spatially infinite sleeves until they produced a scroll that seemed familiar to him. Georgiana offered it out and Yuri took it, opening his cloak to find the one that Christophe had given him, which was an identical match. 

"Er..."

"You open it, silly, and then our characters are friends and we can talk, even if we're not in the same place." She gave another high laugh, and Yuri was reminded that women with revolving emotions were the worst kinds of people for him.

"Okay. I'll...do that. Later. We have to –  go." He turned and looked over only to find Otabek staring right at him, amusement dancing in his warm eyes. "We have to go!"

"So we do," the knight acquiesced with a duck of his head.

"Oh, and you too, we can be–" The witch stopped, frowning slightly at Otabek. "No. I suppose we couldn't, could we?" She sighed. "It figures, I meet one of the great ones and I can't even make friends. No wonder they leave me to my forest..." 

Yuri narrowed his eyes at Otabek as he stepped towards him, now officially Inquisitive TM but also loathe to stick around for what sounded like one hell of a sob story. Before he could get more than a few steps away from her, though, a loud howl echoed through the trees around them. 

Otabek swore under his breath, in a language that Yuri vaguely recognized. Which only served to remind him that he knew fuck all about the guy who was leading him through the damned woods.

“So, wolves are bad?” Yuri hazarded, sounding exhausted and exasperated.

“We don’t get normal wolves here,” Georgiana answered.

“Of course you don’t,” Yuri threw his hands up. “So, what, they breathe fire? Explode? Spout  _ bullshit promises that it’s just a walk through the forest and then we’re out scott-free _ ?!”

“Wow, that seemed oddly specific,” Georgiana looked askance first at Yuri, then Otabek.   


“It’s coming.” Otabek ignored them, rolling his shoulders and gritting his teeth. “I’ll lead it off, you two stay here.”

“Wait-what-no!” Yuri snapped, but Otabek had already taken off running. “Why does that keep happening?!”

Georgiana let free an innocent little whistle. “Maybe you’re not good with men?”

“Don’t  _ you _ start!” Yuri warned. “What would you know about men anyway?”

“Oh honey, you have  _ no idea _ .” She tittered.

The ground beneath them shook, groaning loudly as everything seemed to shift and bubble for a second, then fall back into place. 

The two looked at each other, then both swore in their mother tongue. Which just so happened to be shared.

“So what, it’s a giant wolf?” Yuri asked, eyes darting and dodging around them.

“Be still,” she whispered, putting a finger to her mouth and crouching low to the ground. Yuri could help but copy her stance, hunching down and looking at her with bright eyes. There was another wolf howl, farther away from them than before, but the forest was otherwise silent.

Georgiana tilted her head slowly, taking carefully measured breathes, her mouth moving as she counted down to something Yuri couldn’t even begin to fathom. When she reached zero she stiffened, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as though willing something away.

Another earthquake, somehow closer, came at the same moment, shooting vibrations straight up from the earth to Yuri’s feet and up his legs, climbing higher to rattle his spine and unsettle him. Leaves rained down on them as a few trees groaned, and then fell when the ground they stood rooted in seemed to lose substance and turn almost liquid. It sloshed as the trees fell with loud crashes to the ground around them, then started sucking the long trunks in hungrily.

“Quicksand,” Yuri wondered aloud as he watched. He’d never seen it in anything other than cheesy movies before.

“Least of our problems,” Georgiana muttered, standing tall and holding her hands out. 

Purple light swirled in her palms and she artfully swung her arms, complicated sigils burning in her grip before she brought both fists together with a sound like a hammer striking an anvil. There was a spark and she drew them apart, a long pole arm materializing between them. Her arms flung out wide and a black staff hung in the air for a second before one hand came back and gripped its center, sending the weapon spinning end over end with the ease of a practiced baton. She moved it, still twirling, from one hand to the next before slamming one end to the ground.

The anvil sang once more, and from the smooth head of the head of the staff a curved crescent moon sprang like a hidden knife, long spikes glowing ember-orange growing like time lapsed leaves along the outer edge of it. A red sphere swirled into being in the center of the half circle, floating perfectly still and in place between the top of the staff and the point of the crescent, held aloft by invisible lines.

“Okay, but be honest, was all that  _ really _ necessary?” Yuri looked down at his hands, trying to bring his bow into being.

“I happen to be very talented!”

“Well something had to make up for that voice of yours,” Yuri muttered as he squinted harder at the palms his bow was absolutely  _ not _ appearing it. Why the hell wasn’t it working?! What had he done –

The phantom feeling of Otabek’s hand over his own burned, and he could feel his face heat up on instinct. Right. That was missing.

“You have to see it in your head,” Georgiana offered unhelpfully.

“Bite me, this was easier last time!”

The rumbling came again, closer still, and Yuri looked up and got his first glimpse of the monster.

It was a huge beast, but nothing gigantic like he’d imagined. It looked like a rhinoceros...sort of? A big, ruddy-brown, moving boulder of a body perched on bizarrely delicate gazelle-thin legs. The head was most definitely a horse’s, but even a typical equine head looked weird on that scale, or perhaps it was the large white horn sticking out from the end of its snout that stuck out oddly against the muted forest colors. So very much not a rhino and yet what else you call it?

Yuri knew.

“Indrik!” The young Russian stared in disbelief, eyes wide, as his childhood boogeymen danced at the edge of his consciousness. If there was an Indrik, then anything else could be lurking. 

“Good to know you’re caught up on your Bestiary at least,” Georgiana pointed her staff in the direction of the beast.

“My what? No!” Yuri looked at Georgiana. “My folklore is trying to kill us! Why are you so okay with this?!”

“Welcome to Abrea!” The witch gave Yuri an almost crazed grin. “C’mon, let’s go slay the boogeyman!”

She rushed towards the monster before Yuri could reply, the gem in her staff glowing as licks of fire started to rush out from it. Her free hand was busy forming fireballs that she hurled with wicked accuracy. Yuri stood there, watching, dumbfounded. He slowly looked down at his hand again, and his bow appeared at once.

He did his best to ignore the embarrassing imagined-sensation of Otabek at his back that eased the process.

Clenching one hand around the wood that felt like a natural part of himself, Yuri pulled an arrow from his arrow backpack –  _ quiver _ , idiot, don’t forget that word! –  and strung it. Despite himself, he felt a grin form at his lips.

His arrow flew and struck the beast in the side. It stuck, but the creature didn’t even seem to notice. The blonde frowned, but hurried closer to try again. Georgiana was moving like a demented bee, bobbing and weaving drunkenly around the Indrik in a manic dance. Fire rose up from where she had only just stepped, high flames leaping up into the air but seemingly ignorant of the flammable trees around them. Her feet created a ring of fire around the beast, hemming it into an area around the size of an ice rink. It lifted its head and bellowed, and the ground around it inside the fire liquified as the earth shook again. The ground rippled out from under the fire, the quicksand spreading further at lightning speed.

Yuri dodged to the left of a falling tree trunk and hurdled another that fell across his path to the monster. He expected to land on solid ground, but instead felt himself plunge into porridge. Aggressive porridge, that he could feel sucking him in greedily. Before he could even yell it had gone from his knees up to his waist and was coming for his chest fast. He called for Georgiana but the nutjob woman had started that damn song of hers again, and the Indrik cared for it even less than Yuri if its pained roars were any indication. 

A scent that was inexplicably soothing seemed to rise up from the oozing earth, soothing his wild flailing and softening his scream. Some kind of spell, or natural mechanism designed to ease the magical digestion? Yuri’s brain was too fuzzy to even be mad.

_Quicksand_ , he thought to himself as he tried to claw his way out of the mire at a snail’s pace. _I never expected quicksand._ _Freak skating accident, death by fangirls maybe, but quicksand…?_

A shadow fell over him and before he could put too much thought into  _ that _ he was being dragged by the shoulders. The magic mud was having none of it, holding on for all it could, but as Yuri’s head lolled sleepily back he could see the determined face of Otabek grimacing with the effort to free him.

And damned if that didn’t just fill him with the most unwelcome  _ peace of mind _ he’d ever experienced. Stupid Otabek, making him feel safe.

“That’s it, good, don’t you dare give up now!” the knight was saying, and Yuri felt his ears burn as the lazy thought of  _ he has a nice voice _ passed through his cotton-stuffed head. “Stay angry, you’ve never been anything else in the entire time I’ve known you, don’t start now!”

“...fuck...you…” The words were thick, his tongue heavy and glued by the peace spell, but he could feel the low level anger that always seemed to crackle just behind his public veneer lurch and rock, agitated by its containment. He jerked his head, the energy sparking along his nerve endings, sending his body into motion as he slowly came up from the ground that had almost swallowed him.

Otabek gave a last jerking heave and Yuri came completely free, the last tether of the spell snapping from his mind as his feet left the earth. There was a slick  _ schlurp _ sound as the ground settled back solid, and the force both used sent Yuri rushing forward. Otabek fell back, and Yuri was right after him, landing with a wounded grunt on the cold armor of the knight. For a moment the two laid there, both panting and staring at each other, a hot gust blowing over them from Georgiana’s continued efforts.

The illusion was broken, however, when Yuri noticed that the older man’s face and armor were far less pristine than he’d last seen them. Thick strokes of crimson and black painted Otabek’s skin and steel. Cold fists gripped Yuri’s gut as he reached a shaking hand toward the other’s face. 

“It’s not mine.” 

The two froze again at Otabek’s words, eyes still locked. Yuri’s tongue felt heavy, as if he were under the quicksand’s spell once more. Even if it hadn’t been, he wasn’t really sure what words were going to come- his mind was certainly blank of anything  _ verbal _ .

The spell that seemed to have woven its way between the two of them broke with another bellow and earthquake that still rioted nearby. Yuri jerked back as if bitten, and Otabek surged forward and up to his feet, throwing Yuri off to the side a bit in his haste. He was at least gracious enough to offer the blonde a hand up, but by now the Ranger’s full faculties had returned, and humiliation rose up to shove the offered hand aside and force Yuri up onto unstable feet. 

“We’re going.”

And Yuri didn’t even stop to argue as he followed after Otabek, leaving the monster and that horrendously cheesy shoujo manga scene behind them with the now-cackling Black Witch of Obscurité. 

She seemed to have it well enough in hand.

*~*~*~*

 

"Okay, she was crazy," Yuri said, once he was sure they were well away. The awkwardness between them needed breaking. He’d gladly do it to kill that ugly silence. 

They’d made it farther through the forest, avoiding any further incident thanks to Otabek leading the way. They’d even managed to stop and clean up a bit. While Yuri had come away from the quicksand spotlessly clean, which Otabek explained away as part of the illusory magic involved in it, he’d been more than happy to see the blood smears come away from the other man. It had instantly soothed an unease he hadn’t realized he’d been feeling. Which only pressed him to hurry the both of them on their journey, happy to leave those thoughts back at the small stream they’d washed in. 

"You're assuming a lot," Otabek replied, eyes once more scanning the forest around them as they walked.

"Oh, come on, I am not. That woman was a light switch. I've known coffee addicts with more chill than her!" Yuri scowled at his compatriot.

Otabek stopped and faced Yuri. "You know nothing about this place, but you assume that everything is the same as the world outside of it. So let me ask you, then, what is the point of fantasy?"

"What are you talking about?!" Yuri growled, crossing his arms and leaning against a tree beside them. If they were going to take a break for philosophizing, he may as well relax while doing it. "Is there no end to this damn riddle speak and tragic hero act of yours?"

The knight walked towards him, and Yuri did his best to remain aloof. The other man was so comfortable in this place that he looked like he belonged here. Meanwhile, Yuri was just itching to get to the next city to escape and never come back. Maybe call up Viktor and yell at him for a good long while about what a terrible idea it all was. In Russian. Because if there was a better language to be angry in, Yuri didn't know it yet.

Otabek was right in front of him now, leaning close and thunking a fist against the bark of the tree over Yuri's head. His dark skin filled Yuri's field of vision, the subtle jump of muscle in his jaw catching his eyes, the scent of something like the wet world after a long rain filling his nose and head. It was too much, too close. His ears ached with the sound of a heartbeat not unlike a jackhammer- staccato beats throbbing in his too-full head.

It took him a second to realize what he was hearing was his own.

Yuri's whole body trembled, and he opened his mouth to object, but the other pulled away before he could get anything beyond a whimper out. The ranger's breath struggled to even out, but his eyes did catch sight of Otabek's hands as they pulled away. Something...moved...

The knight held out what appeared to be a long strip of bark. Yuri's mind, still firmly treading quicksand, tried to supply that that made no sense. It made even less sense a second later when the bark in the other man's hand  _ moved  _ to coil around his gauntleted wrist. Its colors twisted, the rough texture of the bark flattened and smoothed. Until what Otabek held was nothing like a piece of tree at all.

A serpent, as long as Otabek's arm, lifted its flared head and flicked its tongue in Yuri's direction. Its scales, now blackened, shone an oil slick rainbow in the light of the sun that crept through the overhead canopy. Slit-pupil eyes watched the blonde for a second before roaming to look up at what held it, and then panned back to Yuri once more.

"I don't – "

"I told you that you were assuming. You assumed that what you leaned against was a tree." Otabek shifted his hand and the snake tightened the loop it made of its tail to anchor at the man's wrist.

As Yuri watched, the snake's scales lightened to a silver color, matching the armor beneath it. They even slightly raised up  and dipped to match the valleys where the plates overlapped, and its body deflated and spread out over the expanse of metal. In only a second the snake was lost against the armor, even managing to copy the shine and scuff of wear and care. 

"This, instead, is one of the most venomous creatures in all of Abrea."

The blonde instinctively pressed back against the tree, away from the creature that his eyes could no longer distinguish. Of course, then he remembered where the beast had come from, and suddenly becoming one with the tree at his back was about as safe as the thing itself. He jumped away to the side, standing between the trees and eyeing them, and Otabek, suspiciously.

"It isn't trying to hurt you," Yuri said slowly. "So, it's deadly, but not violent."

For a moment, Yuri's heart stopped, and his mind told him the world had shattered. In the next, his brain caught up enough to inform him that no, no...

Otabek had just smiled.

"Holy shit, don't crack your face or anything." Yuri blinked.

Otabek rolled his eyes and moved his arm back to the tree. His armor shifted, and a long ribbon of it moved back to the tree, where the snake once again took on its guise as bark.

"That was pretty," Yuri blinked then coughed, leaning against the tree beside him to force nonchalance. "Cool! Pretty cool! The snake, I mean! How'd you know it was there?"

Otabek looked over at the ranger and smirked, and Yuri found himself very much enjoying that just as much as the rare smile. “They’re on every tree in Obscurité.”

“Oh,” Yuri nodded, head still full of warm and fuzzy thoughts. “...wait, what?!”

*~*~*

 

The sun was no longer overhead by the time they reached the edge of the forest. It turned out that the end of the forest was also the edge of the land it grew from. While they had been walking through it had felt flat and typical, but now it became clear that Obscurité was high up on a mountain range overlooking the rest of the world. Yuri had taken two steps away from the godforsaken, snake-riddled woods and found himself at the first step to a very long drop down. He could look out and see another cliff in front of them, a chasm yawning between with a rushing river below. The other side’s mountain reached higher up, but clouds obscured the actual peak making it hard to truly judge the difference. 

Just to their right was what looked like the only way across, short of wings. A narrow rope bridge that swayed from the air moving in the gap it traversed. Two thick braided lines, connecting both ends, sat only at chest height, while a series of cords weaved their way down, across, and up the other side of intricately carved wooden planks.

If it were only that, Yuri told himself, it would have been fine. But the moisture in the air from the river, forest, and mountain runoff had played hell with the natural materials. The thin cords were frayed, the thick anchoring lines were worn, and a few of the planks were punched-through or missing altogether. Moss – thick, green, and  _ slick _ – fuzzed over a lot of the rope and wood.

Because of  _ course _ the bridge was eerie and terrifying. Why wouldn’t it be? 

“All right,” Otabek walked over to the bridge and looked across it. “We have to pass one at a time.”

“Why?” Yuri stared at him for a second, because that was the most idiotic thing he’d ever heard. “I get that it’s narrow, but that’s a long way to stick your neck out with a stranger. I don’t really know you.”

“I wouldn’t have bothered to take you this far if I wanted to kill you.” Otabek shrugged. “It’s how the bridge is coded, it’s supposed to be a test.”

“How do you know  _ I _ won’t kill  _ you _ ?” Yuri asked, crossing his arms and frowning. “You don’t know me, either.”

“I’ll go first then,” Otabek replied, stepping up to the bridge.

“No!” Yuri hurried over and gently nudged the other out of the way, taking up the whole of the bridge’s width for himself. “I’ll go. It’s fine.” He found himself taking a deep breath and turning to face out towards the planks. “Anything else I need to know? About the test?”

“ _ When one comes upon me, I hold only their unfettered heart. When two come upon me, I hold the heart of one and the honor of the other. Go only forwards, towards your goal. One step back, you forfeit your soul, _ ” the knight recited, giving Yuri’s back a small, encouraging smile. “You have nothing to fear in either measure. Keep looking forward and you’ll be fine.”

“Right.” The blonde licked his lips and nodded his head, stepping out onto the first piece of wood. When his foot didn’t immediately fall through and take him on a long plunge to his inevitable crushing, wet demise, Yuri felt the invisible weight lift from his shoulders, and he began his venture out.

It wasn’t exactly hard going, his steps were measured and careful, and the bridge provided plenty of support. The difficulty was in looking down, or rather, not looking down. He knew there was nothing down there he wanted to see, but his eyes were magnetically drawn. Watching each foot move to the next plank. Having to reach out over the broken ones to the next gave him a lovely view of eternity below. It was only a game, but Yuri’s mind was having none of it as cold air rushed through his hair, and sent the bridge rocking gently, cementing the reality in place.

Finally, he was able to look up again, but only because two boards in succession had broken. The length was enough to make him stop, and pause. He would have to jump it. Nothing dramatic, but any kind of leap was an issue…

*~*

 

Otabek watched Yuri’s steady progress, proud but not at all surprised at the ranger’s pace. He hadn’t hesitated yet, a feat most players couldn’t boast about. This place was meant for high level players, ones who were most acclimated to the game and had enough tricks, spells, potions, and enchanted items to make even a fall a mere distraction. It was a different bridge altogether when one was alone, he knew from experience. The elements, the bridge, the world itself were all against you then. This way, at least, Yuri stood a near perfect chance. The bridge measured the ease of passage based on the strength of the one left behind. He was strong enough on his own to face all that the enchanted bridge could throw at him when he crossed alone, or if he had been the one to cross before Yuri. If he could be a stone, an anchor to moor to, he would do so gladly for anyone who offered to go first.

A lack of movement caught his attention, and he frowned as Yuri stopped. He couldn’t see what would have caused the other to baulk at this point – he was so far already.

Otabek shifted, working up his voice to yell across to his comrade –

“Don’t look back, Yuri!”

The knight turned his head, eyes wide at the sound of his own voice – which hadn’t come from his own mouth.

There, leaning casually against the wooden stanchions, was JJ. The Dark Lord grinned impishly, licked his lips, and spoke in Otabek’s voice once more. “Just keep going!”

The surprised knight spun fully around and threw his hand out for his sword, lightning crackling in his eyes as he prepared for battle.

“Ah ah ah,” JJ tutted, speaking in that confident tone of his own. There was a soft few thunks, drawing Otabek’s eyes down to where the man’s rapier was resting against the braided rope that held the bridge to the thick wooden pillar imbedded in the ground. As he watched, the next tap came with a twist of the blade that bit into the rope ever so slightly.

Brown eyes jumped to meet JJ’s darkened blue, and the madman’s smile grew.

“You wouldn’t want my hand to slip, would you?” JJ tilted his head to the side with a chuckle.

“What in the hell – ”

“You know what I want, Otabek.” All mirth had fled, and only cold severity remained. “Give it to me now or watch the Little Ranger learn to fly.”

And Otabek could only lower his head.

*~*

 

Yuri wanted to **scream**. Hell if he was being honest he _wanted_ to go **_back,_** but the fucking bridge, or magic, or who the hell knew what, was keeping him from taking a god damned step.  Because he’d wanted to just keep going, he’d wanted to make the jump\- had been _ready_ to do it - when Otabek had yelled but–

His name.

He’d said his  _ name. _

_ Otabek had  _ **_never_ ** _ used his name. _

Yuri had lurched, and sent the bridge rocking again, but as he regained his footing he threw his whole being into turning around because  _ something wasn’t right. _ And lo, and behold, something was indeed very, very wrong.

It was hard to make out, at first. The distance was hell, and some of the cloud layer had begun to drop like a thin, wispy fog around them, but there was no mistaking the _two_ figures Yuri could see. And the frozen mental claws that raked down his spine told him in no uncertain terms who the second man, leaning against the pole, was.  

JJ.

What the fuck was JJ doing  _ here _ ?! It was all make believe bullshit, but Yuri had believed the surety Otabek presented when they’d arrived, that JJ could not follow, at least not without help. And Yuri was stuck on the bridge because of it’s own bullshit rules, and couldn’t help Otabek who-who –

Who slowly kneeled, head hung low, and offered up his hands to the Dark Lord.

“Гребаный ад!”

English flew out the window as Yuri tried to make sense of what he was seeing. As he watched, JJ stepped forward, one hand poised with flames dancing at his fingertips. With it, he leaned down and grasped Otabek’s right ankle, which startled him. The Dark Lord tilted his head a bit, mouth now right beside Otabek’s ear. The knight’s head flew back as some sound escaped him and fell into the gorge where no one could hear it. A bright band of red light floated around them both, a ring of scrolling symbols and glyphs that looked formless but ancient to Yuri’s eyes that burned away the fog between them. Instantly the band snapped tight around them, shooting in until it glowed from under JJ’s hold. 

When the man stepped back, Otabek’s arms sank to his sides, his ankle showing the –  magic? –  burned into his armor. His left wrist began to glow an answering light, matching symbols rising up to smolder alongside the new. Then Otabek slumped forward in the dirt, catching himself only at the last second before meeting it face-first.

Yuri screamed in wordless rage at JJ and at Otabek. The smug bastard turned to look at Yuri and waved a cavalier hand before dropping into a bow. He held up something with a trailing cord in his hand, then exaggeratedly mouthed two words so that even Yuri so far away could see them before blinking away out of existence. Presumably the same way Yuri and Otabek had earlier, though that seemed years away by now. 

Thank You.

Yuri felt his knees go out from under him, and he sank down to sit on the bridge and stare at the still form of Otabek worlds away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Гребаный ад = Google Translate says "Fucking Hell"...but I have my doubts, Google Translate never lets me swear as hard or as much as I want to >.>  
> [royceclayton.tumblr.com](royceclayton.tumblr.com)


	4. Telling

Yuri completed his bridge crossing, numb and hollow, without further incident. When he stepped off and turned, he could see Otabek working his way to his feet again. A million words flittered across his mind all at once, a swarm of thoughts ranging from concern to outright betrayed rage. He managed to bite them all back, gating off his heart by gritting his teeth and looking away.

From where he stood, Yuri was met with the sheer rock face of this mountain. Set directly in front of him was a doorway. An ornate arched shape with symbols carved around in a blood red outer frame that lay inset and flush with the stone. It didn’t look _un_ inviting per se. The blonde glanced back over his shoulder and saw Otabek starting to gingerly pick his way across the wooden planks of the bridge. He wasn’t walking quite right by the looks of it, his right leg stiff. Again the wave of emotion bubbled up, and Yuri choked it back down. Everything was fake anyway.

 _Everything_.

His attention returned to the doorway, and he moved towards it with a hand outstretched to lightly run over the marks around its edges. He couldn’t make out anything past it, as if it were only a flat black painting of space between the frames. His mind was working twice as hard, as always hyper-focusing when it was trying to ignore something. He didn’t know what the characters meant– not that he knew what _anything_ in this game meant–, but there was something warm and familiar about them all the same. Warm...almost hot.

He yanked his hand back with a low hiss as the symbols heated up and lit from one end to the other in bright orange. The black space shifted, the air around him grew hotter, and suddenly the space was coming alive.

An arm cloaked in pure shadow reached out towards Yuri with long tapered fingers tipped in pointed claws. The Ranger yelped as the disembodied appendage swiped blindly at him and recoiled away further, and the arm sank back into the doorway. The next moment the space seemed to sink backwards into the mountain behind it, light and depth suddenly playing their proper roles. It now looked like it actually led...somewhere.

Hell if Yuri was going in, though.

He edged back, finding himself caught between the bridge and the demon door that slowly returned to its flat state, the tunnel gone and leaving Yuri wondering if it was all a trick of the light to begin with. His attention flew across the bridge, seeking out Otabek’s position and condition even now. The knight was over halfway across already, his pace and physical state seemingly improved. Whatever had been ailing him must have eased. Which only made Yuri more uneasy. But all he could do, short of throwing himself off the edge and into the gaping chasm he’d worked so hard to cross, was wait for Otabek.

It was a feeling he was beginning to grow accustomed to– something of equal concern.

Watching him now, Yuri tried to find any sign of the weird magic– _it had to have been_ – that JJ had planted. He’d seen the marks over what had until moment ago been Otabek’s bad ankle, but also on one of his wrists. The letters had been seared through his armor, glowing like hellfire, but all that remained now was cold, dull steel.

Finally the older man stepped off of the bridge and straightened up to his full height with some effort. He looked at Yuri for all of a second before heading toward the doorway, passing by him in silence.

“Oh, hell no!” Yuri snapped, reaching out and catching Otabek by the shoulder, halting the other’s progress. “What the fuck, you’re not going to say _any_ thing?!”

Otabek shrugged off the blonde’s hand, his gaze firmly forward and away from Yuri’s incredulity. “About what?”

“About what?” Yuri echoed, eyes owlishly large as he stared. He could feel his jaw hanging and his stomach aching as though he’d been hit by the other’s cold tone. “About– about **_any_ ** of what just happened?” Otabek’s attention returned to the doorway, and Yuri clenched his fists at his sides. “What did he say to you – what did he _do_ to you?!”

The knight pulled one gauntlet off– the _right_ , Yuri noted, the one that hadn’t reacted to JJ’s magic – and ran his bare fingers over the marks in the crimson frame. Yuri started to warn him about what he’d seen, but the frame lit up once more, blue this time. A blast of freezing cold air blew over them as if the mountain itself was yawning, the doorway sinking into a clearly defined and _lit_ tunnel. Burning torches hung from high up the walls, illuminating the way forward.

“This way,” Otabek muttered, slipping his hand back into its glove and walking through.

Yuri thought about ignoring him, about staying put right where he was. But even he recognized it as a bit too similar to a tantrum. He’d never get his answers that way, and, with how the other man was behaving, he couldn’t guarantee that Otabek would come back for him. So instead he followed the other closely. Once they were both inside Yuri heard the stone around them move, shift, and the doorway was sealed shut behind them once more.

“Where are we?” He wasn’t going to drop the pertinent subject, but if he could get Otabek talking at all, then at least it was a step in the right direction.

After a moment, Yuri was sure Otabek wouldn’t answer and they’d be left in total silence. But the knight shrugged a bit and finally spoke. “Call it a back door.”

“To what?”

“The nearest save point.”

“That eager to get rid of me?” And Yuri wouldn’t even bother to identify the odd shift his voice took as he asked. Or the ache in his gut.

Otabek didn’t seem to notice. “Eager to get you out of all this.”

The blonde froze, unable to take another step after the man in front of him. After a few steps without their echo Otabek must have noticed his absence. The knight turned and looked back, confusion and preoccupation warring on his face. Yuri forced himself to breathe, shoving everything else away from him, and stepped onward to catch up to Otabek and then shove past him. The droning static of disconnection buzzed in his ears, a hive of humming apathy dutifully building up the walls once more.

The corridor was lit enough, he could do just fine on his own barring any twists or turns. He didn’t need to stay with Otabek. Where he was a burden.

Where he was unwanted.

A heavy metal grip caught him by the arm, and Otabek was strong enough to not only stop Yuri, but turn him so they were face to face in the flickering torchlight. The two stood still, just staring, both so caught up in their own minds that neither could read what the other’s expression was saying. Yuri’s face was blank, painfully so, as though made of thin glass only a single touch away from shattering. Otabek’s was broadcasting concern and turmoil the only way it knew how– a deep scowl.

Otabek broke the stalemate with a sigh, and released his hold on the younger player. “This whole thing is a giant mess that no one should have to deal with but me. It’s my problem, I’m...handling it. This game is supposed to be fun, but all you’ve seen is the worst of it, and that’s my fault. I should have taken you back to Christophe and moved on.”

“And ditched me?” Yuri whispered.

“And kept him from focusing on you, too,” Otabek amended softly.

Yuri looked him over carefully, then straightened up and frowned at him. “But what _is_ he to you? What did he do back on the bridge? Why–”

“Anything else that I tell you will only be a liability. JJ and I–”

“So you _are_ in on it together! Whatever _it_ is, you two are best buddies in evil!” Yuri threw up his hands but Otabek grabbed them and brought them back down between them, grip firm. Yuri wanted to look away, but found himself staring right into Otabek’s eyes again.

“We’re _not_ friends,” and Otabek’s gaze shifted, hurt and confusion bleeding through for the briefest of moments as it pained him to say it outloud. “It’s complicated and personal, and I don’t even understand all of it myself yet. I need you to trust me.”

Yuri took a deep breath, drinking in Otabek’s honesty like the only glass of water in a vast desert. He exhaled and narrowed his eyes, but looking at Otabek’s sincerity only caused him to sigh and nod his head in acceptance. He glanced down at their still joined hands, shifting his feet a bit. Otabek followed his eyes, and while Yuri would have reared back like a spooked horse, the older man only gave their hands a soft squeeze and slowly let them go. A grateful smile teased at the corners of his mouth, his whole body unwinding from the tension it had been carrying for as long as they’d been running together.

It looked good on him, relief.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

 

They followed the straightforward but winding corridor for what felt like ages, but was likely only a quarter of an hour. It all looked the same, enough to drive Yuri stir crazy if he wasn’t already well and truly deep in his own thoughts. At least the silence was far more companionable now.

It was a subtle light change that seemed monumental in the sea of similarity that dredged him up from his mind. Ahead of them there was actually an _end_ to the stupid hallway. A simple wooden door stood in front of them. Yuri glanced at Otabek, but the man just opened and held the door in obvious invitation.

Yuri walked past him and into a basic square of a room, about the size of Yuri’s apartment living room back home. There was another door on the wall opposite of them, a long black carpet runner connecting them. On his left was a bare dark gray stone wall, but to his right…

It was the same naked rock wall, but a golden picture frame was hung in the center. Yuri could make out three cloaked figures standing side by side in it, each one raising a hand high, with wisps of green smoke trailing up through the blue sky stretching over them and into an orb of acid-green hanging in the air. He stepped closer to get a better look.

The center of the sphere was marked with a single symbol, a mirrored pair of what looked like stylized letter ‘A’s. They were purple, and had three strikes through the middle of them where the normal A would be crossed. The points at the top of each curved, as did the two lines at the bottom that made the legs. Nestled between the two A’s , resting gently against their curls, was a circle of black with a light blue snowflake in the middle of it.

  


When he turned to ask about it, Otabek was already at the other door and opening it. Rather than be left behind, he followed the older man in, fully intent on questioning him once they got through. They exited the corridor and found themselves spit out into a wide open room easily the size of a professional ice rink that threw any thoughts of the painting or words outside of adjectives right out of the blonde’s mind. Gilded columns carved from what looked like various raw gemstones shot up from the polished crystalline floor, two-people thick and reaching up high to a ceiling that was painted in bold bright colors.

Rather than the sprawling frescoes of saints Yuri was so used to seeing in his homeland’s cathedrals, though, these were grand murals of fantastic beasts in stunningly realistic environments. And where most churches went all out and covered every inch of available space in paint and plaster, there were vast expanses of raw rock wall. Dull grays swirled with veins of precious earthen colors, unnatural seams of rainbow and metallic shine weaving in and out like broad aimless strokes of a master’s brush.

Yuri’s eyes were forcibly peeled away from the spectacle by the sound of murmured voices. It was then he noticed the monks, dressed in their thick black robes and scuttling around the open floor that was dotted with long tables and bench seats. Book cases and tables piled high with scrolls and aged leather bound volumes took up almost an entire quarter of the space, and the whole of one was from ten feet or so up to the floor was carved into a honeycomb, spilling more paper and knowledge from each hexagon. Some people spoke with each other, others sat eating or reading, and still more walked around in what became easily identifiable patterns.

“So...I just...have to talk to anyone?” Yuri asked slowly, finding himself hesitant to just rush out of the place with so very much lying between them still.

“Yes.”

Yuri stood there for a moment, watching the little computer people going about their virtual lives.

“So if I came back–” “If you want to come back–”

The two both stopped speaking and looked at each other. Yuri shrugged a bit and glanced away, giving Otabek the go-ahead with a flippant hand.

“If...if you want to come back and play again, you’ll spawn here.”

“I thought everyone spawned in that place with the bar? The newbie city?”

“Normally new people do, yes, because again, most save their games there. Wherever you save is wherever you come back the next time.” Otabek shrugged. “Eventually you level up enough to go explore the world and save elsewhere but Nachalo is– _was_ safe.”

“Wait, so if I save here–” Yuri groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m gonna be stuck here?”

“You’d be free to leave the monastery but...outside is one of the most dangerous parts of the game, yes.” Otabek nodded, then he looked into Yuri’s eyes. “But I could take you back, to Nachalo. If you came back.”

“You’d sit here waiting?”

“Not forever. I have to take care of some things.”

“ _Personal_ things?” Yuri arched an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“ _Personal_ things you aren’t going to _tell_ me about?”

“That seemed implied.”

“Idiot.”

“I can give you two days, real world time. If you aren’t back by then, I’ll take it to mean you’ve quit the game, completely understandable, and that’ll be it. But if you come back…” Otabek trailed off, frowning.

“Give me something,” Yuri appealed. “Give me something, _anything_ to come back to.”

“I _can’t_.” Otabek held up his hands. “But if–”

“ _I can’t,_ ” Yuri sneered, marching away from the other man and approaching a monk standing nearby with a book in his hand. He glared back at Otabek as he tapped the NPC on the shoulder.

“Why, hello.” The balding little holy man’s face scrunched up and his eyes crossed for a second before he spoke again, though haltingly and with great effort, “Hello...Hey, have you...heard...about our..latest saving...features…?”

Otabek started forward towards them, hell in his eyes, and Yuri’s hand squeezed the fake person tightly as a spike of adrenaline shot through him.

“Save the game!” Yuri barked, trying to speak over the little man muddling through his pre-rendered speech. “Save itSaveItSAVEIT!”

“Yuri–”

“...would you like to save the game?”

“ **_YES!_ ** ”

And the world around Yuri went black.

*~*~*

 

Yuri shot back from his computer desk, arms wheeling as his weight tipped back and his chair  fell over and planted him on carpeted floor.

His carpeted floor.

He pushed himself up on his arms and looked around, panting softly. He got the briefest glimpse of his bedroom before his vision went dark. And furry. Potya meowed loudly, demanding attentiondinnerloverespectspacefeedmehuman in the language of his floofy cat people. Yuri sat himself up right and his lap was instantly full of cat, bright eyes blinking up imploringly. He sighed and ran a hand through the thick fur and looked to his desk, where his bright alarm clock informed him he’d spent _hours_ in the game. And sure, it had felt like it, but Yuri couldn’t remember the last thing he’d spent hours solely focused on outside of skating.

Slowly he stood, dislodging the cat from his warm nest, and started out of the room and down the hall, tiny paws daintily following after him as he made his way into the kitchen. He cracked open a can of fancy cat food and spooned it out into Potya’s dish. Then, he made himself a bowl of cold cereal. He carried both dishes to the small square table beside the kitchen in what passed for a dining room, and set them down there. His cat didn’t even wait for him to sit down before he was up on the table and face first into his feast.

Yuri popped a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.

He did his best to ignore the soft flowery music coming from his computer in the other room that filled his head with warm eyes, wet earth, and the heat of a strong body. All _that_ brought to mind was a churning unease that twisted a dagger through his gut and turned the cereal in his mouth to glue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Concerns? Drop a comment and let me know how I'm doing! Thank you for reading!  
> [royceclayton.tumblr.com](royceclayton.tumblr.com)


	5. Will He Won't He Says He

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so I had some specific images in mind while writing the cut scene which can be found here:  
> [Image 1](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/5d/71/a5/5d71a5a9c15da86e7a74409f8b2cb31a--character-illustration-watercolors.jpg&sa=D&ust=1501107398819000&usg=AFQjCNGNskXjIuXYR4hO8hr09TvFMbJpkA)  
> [Image 2](https://www.google.com/url?q=http://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/watercolor-animal-illustrations-luqman-reza-mulyono-fb1__700-png.jpg&sa=D&ust=1501107398820000&usg=AFQjCNEZF-Y0PlemZohJilXqCEJFoDGnUg)  
> [Image 3](https://www.google.com/url?q=http://68.media.tumblr.com/a2963850b29f4acbb96d1ee0bef571be/tumblr_inline_n6km48JbTt1qd7ok2.jpg&sa=D&ust=1501107398821000&usg=AFQjCNGwTiDVMsnHItDaTPd7LXTYqz5U0w)  
> All credit to the artists for their gorgeous work

Yuri could only stay in his apartment for so long. Even after he’d worked up the nerve and energy to go back into his room and shut off his computer. Even though watching the screen go black felt like it drained him and left him sitting in his computer chair feeling very alone. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it burned like ice and sent him rummaging through his clothes to find something to wear as he rushed himself out of his own door. He at least made sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone before he did.

So now he was wandering the streets of St Petersburg, fists shoved into the pockets of his tiger-striped hoodie and face buried deep in a leopard print scarf. It actually wasn’t too terribly cold today, but he burrowed further still as he walked by a group of girls chattering away about the latest trends. Thank the heavens it was an off season– the fangirls tended to thin out this time of year. Yuri could actually walk unmolested.

Where he was walking _to_ was a mystery even to himself. Mostly he just couldn’t stand to feel cooped up in his own home. Not with that damned screen acting as a portal, sitting so innocuously on his desk.

At the forefront of his mind was his annoyance at himself for this even being an issue to begin with. Why should he care? Why the hell would he ever want to go back to that stupid game after all the running and life threatening danger–

_This game is supposed to be fun, but all you’ve seen is the worst of it, and that’s my fault_.

Stupidly warm brown eyes filled his head and it took all he could not to outwardly wave his arms to shoo them away. And there was problem layer two. Outside of the game, and away from the man’s heady presence, he could look at his reactions to Otabek for what they were.

Infatuation.

Lust.

_Lust_ ! As though that arrangement of science and numbers and computer programs was any kind of true image of the guy. Yuri remembered signing up for the game. He remembered the meticulous questions and dials and options… He’d been overwhelmed, to say the least, but not so much so that he didn’t recognize that he didn’t _have_ to be himself. He _chose_ to look like himself, maybe adding the long hair for vanity and the height for ego, but still himself.

He could have just as easily chosen to look like Viktor, or the Katsudon, or some other celebrity in the world. Just because Otabek looked like he did in the game didn’t mean he was anywhere near that in person. Wasn’t that what all those internet stories about Craigslist Killers and CatFishers were about? If the lists that he secretly clicked on in his Facebook feed were any indication, everyone on the internet wanted to kill and stalk someone else. He was willing to bet the numbers were inflated, but the point still stood.

Which led him to wonder _why_ Otabek’s appearance mattered so much. Yuri was fully capable of being shallow, and he knew it, but the hang up with the other man’s character stung deeper than that. The Yuri in the game looked like the Yuri who was walking down this St Petersburg street. But the Otabek– and that name could just be some fallacy _too_ – that had done so much for him in the game... could be anyone on any street. He could be standing next to Yuri right now, and there was no way for the blonde to know.

Exposed. It left him feeling exposed.

Yuri stopped and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, growling in frustration. The circuitous thoughts were going to kill him. He just knew it. This was ridiculous.

“Screw it,” Yuri muttered. He looked up and around to get his bearings and found himself standing in front of the rink. His rink. His other home.

He gave a soft snort and went inside, sliding through the hall and into the locker room to grab his skates and head out to the ice. He was hoping for a peaceful skate, something to clear his mind of everything and every _one_.

So of course he’d walk in on Viktor and Yuuri. He stood there watching the two as they moved, perfectly in sync with one another. Matching step sequences over the ice, a pair of salchows like reflections, the two were flawless. As usual.

The couple shifted, skating backwards and gaining momentum as Yuuri’s smaller body tucked up close to Viktor’s longer frame. There was a moment, when Yuuri tilted his head just so, and Viktor looked down, and their eyes connected, that Yuri was pretty sure no one in the world was meant to see but them. And while normally something as saccharine as this would have sent Yuri fuming, now he just sat on one of the bleachers nearest the rink and watched.

Viktor’s hands slid down to Yuuri’s waist, and Yuuri’s hands followed to rest over top of them. They turned and in that instant the two bent their knees low and Viktor was tossing Yuuri up into the air. The Katsudon spun gracefully, hands at his waist now rising up to keep his balance as he landed, still moving backwards, on a single blade.

It was admittedly beautiful until Yuuri’s arms flapped and he overcorrected, sending him face first towards the ice. Viktor, however, was right there, letting Yuuri fall into him and keeping them both upright. They stood on the ice, panting softly, and Yuuri looked up at Viktor with firm resolve which quickly crumbled into laughter as Viktor nuzzled against him and no doubt whispered something Viktorish.

Yuuri was the first to spot him as they were making their way back to the center of the rink. He stopped and beamed, waving to Yuri. Viktor, being Viktor, came rushing over with giant gooey eyes of joy.

“YURIOOOOO!” Viktor stopped at the barricade and held his arms out wide, as though expecting a hug.

Yuri had never been more thankful for a waist-high wall in his life.

“Yuri, what brings you over?” Yuuri asked, rubbing a soothing hand over Viktor’s back.

“What, I need permission to come to my home rink now?” Yuri grumbled.

Viktor tilted his head a bit, something flashing in his eyes. “You... look troubled.”

“HAA?!” Yuri reeled back and tipped off the bench and to the ground with a soft thud. He immediately jumped to his feet. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Yuri, you know you can come to us any time for anything,” Yuuri offered, genuine warmth and concern radiating off of him. “You know you’re family.”

“Spare me, Katsudon.”

“Well if you won’t tell us what’s wrong–”

“Nothing’s _wrong!_ ”

“Then, I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself.” Viktor put his hand to his chin and looked thoughtful.

Yuuri shook his head with a laugh. “Viktor, I’m sure if it was some kind of emergency, Yuri would tell us.”

“Not even if my house was on fire,” Yuri grumbled, crossing his arms.

Yuuri sighed and looked from Viktor to Yuri, then down to Yuri’s skates. “Are you practicing?”

“...No.” Yuri allowed himself to admit. “Can’t a gold medalist skate whenever he wants to.”  
  
Yuuri’s eyes took on a slightly sharp edge and he turned to raise an eyebrow at Viktor. “Let me ask the man with a handful.”

Ouch.

“Shit, Katsudon, ease off.”  
  
Yuuri shook his head and then shrugged. “Forgive me, you walked right into that one.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. Great. Katsuki was feeling saucy today.

“Well, Viktor and I are due for a break anyway, so the ice is yours,” Yuuri smiled, friendly and maternal again.

The two startled as Viktor snapped his fingers sharply. “Got it!”

“Got what?” Yuri blinked.

Viktor beamed that magazine cover smile and Yuri felt dread smothering him already. “So, you’re clearly upset. Because you finally admitted your sexual attraction to Yakov. And you got brave enough to tell him, and even offer yourself to him, to be not only rejected but kicked out of his training for sexual harassment, so you came here to get in one last glorious skate, recorded on the surveillance cameras, before taking your own life and spelling out your beloved’s name on the ice with your own blood and dying breath.”

Yuuri looked at Viktor before blinking and turning to look at Yuri as though for confirmation. Too bad the teenager was stone frozen, eyes the size of dinner plates and mouth hanging open in utter shock and horror. After a minute or two passed without any change, Yuuri leaned over to the traumatized blonde.

“Perhaps it would be best if you just told him?” Yuuri suggested in a faux-whisper. “If that’s his first guess you know the ones that follow will be twenty times worse.”

Lightning rushed through Yuri’s system and his mind rebooted from his blue screen of death a la Viktor.  He tried for words but all that came out was an angry splutter akin to a cartoon cat with a bad lisp. He tried to reach out and hit Viktor, galled clearly beyond words, but Viktor just took his hand and clutched it to his chest imploringly.

“You needn’t die, Yurio! You have so much to live for!”

Out of suitable responses, Yuri numbly felt himself sink to the bench and groan as he hung his head in defeat.

“Oh. I broke him.”

“Really Viktor, that was a bit much.”

“But he wouldn’t tell us!”

Yuuri sighed fondly. “You will be the end of me, I swear it.” He rubbed Yuri’s shoulder as he moved to sit next to him.

Viktor met Yuuri’s eyes, words flying silently between them over Yuri’s head at the speed of marriage. “I’ll go and get something to cheer him up then. I know I have something in my locker.”

With that, the platinum blonde slid his blade covers on and headed back towards the locker room, leaving Yuuri and Yuri to sit alone.

“Ready to talk yet?” Yuuri asked.

“How the hell do you stand living with that?”

“I love him. It really simplifies matters. Don’t avoid the question, or I will call for him to come back.”

“No thanks,” Yuri waved him off with a hand and tossed his head back, running thin fingers through soft hair and sighing deeply. “Why can’t I keep things from you?”

“We love you, Yuri. We know you. Something’s up.”

“... I... ah…” Yuri groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I played that stupid game you and Viktor always talk about.”

Yuuri waited patiently for the rest of the explanation, but when it became clear nothing else was coming he cleared his throat. “And…?”

The teen looked up miserably. “And it’s stupid.”

“Oh Yuri,” Yuuri gave a soft little huff. “You really have to give the game more than a few minutes, it really is a wonderful place full of friendly people.”

“HA!” Yuri barked out a sardonic laugh.

“Did someone bother you?” Yuuri frowned.

Yuri gave another rude snort of derision. “You could say that. I only just barely escaped getting my ass killed by some jackass Evil Dark Lord of Evil or whatever.”

“The Dark Lord?” Yuuri’s face twisted from confusion to pure incredulity, “ _JJ?_ ”

“How many Dark Lords should I have been looking for?”

“Yuri, that doesn’t make any sense! The Dark Lord–”

“Why the hell is there a person playing the Dark Lord anyway?!” Yuri interrupted, standing so that he could pace. “It’s complete horseshit! He has all these crazy ass powers!”

“When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow.”

“Did you get that out of a fortune cookie?” In truth he hadn’t meant to snarl exactly, but it had felt good anyway.

"Ursula K. Le Guin,” the older man quoted with pure Japanese polite aplomb. “But, Yuri, it’s the basis of any world. It’s all spelled out in the Great Myth, didn’t you watch the introduction cutscene when you first logged in?”

“...”

Yuuri sighed and went to his bag, not far off, and pulled out his phone. “You and Viktor both, I swear…”

“It was just somebody talking about some old guys or something, right?” Yuri tried to remember, but all that came to mind were thoughts of tigers and battle. Damn.

“Here,” and Yuuri sat down on the bench beside him and held out his phone with the screen sideways.

Yuri took the offered device and looked down at it. He hit play and leaned back.

The screen was black at first, and then shattered into blank, white nothingness.

After a few seconds, a low male voice spoke in thoughtful, introspective tones. “Once, there was only the void. A perpetual emptiness, so bleak that even the Gods had never laid claim to it. Until three took an interest.”

A soft, slow instrumental began to play. Three small shapes appeared in the vacuous distance, slowly growing in size until they became distinguishable as the same three cloaked people Yuri had seen in the painting in the monastery. This time, though, there was color, droplets of it over them, the watercolor artstyle giving a flowing grace to everything. One in black, one in white, and one in a deep bruise purple. The three stood side by side now, heads tilted up to let featureless faces peek out from their hoods.

“They were three Gods,” the voice murmured, levity dampening his speech. “A God of Darkness,” and here the figure in black, the leftmost in their little line up, raised its hand up. “A God of Light,” and the one in white on the right end lifted its hand too. “And a God of Magic,” the last hand joined its brethren, the purple cloak doing as the others had before it. “And the God of Magic convinced the eternal enemies Darkness and Light to put aside their rivalry, so that they could mold the void with their very own hands.”

Slashes of color sprang from their grasp and met in a single point high above them. From there the empty space began to ripple, wavering in place like water as inky blackness poured in, curling and coiling its way around everything with ravenous efficiency. Even the gods winked out of sight, their colors overtaken by the devouring ichor.

Yuri looked up and over at Yuuri, searching the older man’s face for some kind of clue. For what, he had no idea, but something was...off. Something was _important_ , his mind told him, but had no idea why, or even what that something _was_. Yuuri’s eyes were intently focused on the screen in Yuri’s hands, and so the blonde found his own gaze returning too.

The rippling ink had stilled, congealed into a solid blackness. A deep dark that began to bloom droplets of white, twinkling light at random. Some were neat little specks, others high-velocity spatters, and still more were fat globs precisely pinpointed. As though three distinct and different hands held brushes, dripping stars, over the same sable canvas. Quickly the dark became so covered in stars that a circular outline of fresh, untouched space became clear.

From the center of it, thin ribbons of translucent green spiraled out, swirling and layering over each other again and again until at last everything went still. What sat upon the field of stars was a bright green circle that shifted into a sphere and slowly began to spin.

“Thus the world... was... created,” and the soft string instrumental that had been playing barely noticed in the background crescendoed with dramatic flare.

The screen dove down into the planet until all that could be seen was the acid-green color of it, the music changing now to something busy and fuller. Once again schizophrenic brushes painted the land, swaths of brown turning to earth which sprang grass as sharp spikes of grey became mountains that coated their peaks in white snow. Great widening circles of cerulean chewed into the others, sprinkling lakes, scrawling the rails of rivers, and carving out huge mouthfuls for oceans. As the music slowed and faded out, the three gods appeared once more and stood in the midst of a lush and peaceful world.

Everything was still, and quiet, around them.

The voice came again, softer, almost fond sounding. “The Gods agreed that it was missing something, many somethings, and so put their dwindling powers together once more.”

The trio held their hands aloft and colored life flew from their fingertips into being.

“Each of the them dotted the land with their own creatures, some peaceful,” great flocks of delicate forms bloomed from one of the streams of magic and quickly sought shelter.  “Some fierce,” beasts all of gnashing teeth and pointed claw materialized and struck out on land to find their own homes and prey.  “And some unto gods in their own right.”

The Indrik materialized, far more giant than Yuri had encountered him, but all the same lumbering might. Below that something with the blunted head of an eel and a flattened, stretched body in murky, slimy skin at least 50 feet long. A sea monster perhaps? A furry face peeked out from behind a nearby rock and Yuri felt himself smile as the cat– with admittedly sharp, glinting, dangerous looking claws– began to step out. The smile twitched as the creature’s body followed... and followed... and followed until what had to have been the last of it coiled around the rock it had sprung from. A feline, the size and sleekness of a Savannah cat Yuri had seen online, with mottled skin, and slicked back ears. Just behind the tufted shoulders, its body blended into the long, shiny undulating form of a snake as thick as both the Russian’s arms put together that pointed into a tail sprouting fur like the end of an arrow. Sharp intelligence shone from its hypnotizing eyes.

The monsters, too, left, heading in opposite directions from each other with the sedate pace of things that had no natural enemies. In their wake they left birdsong, growls, the splash of fish; sounds of life burbled through the speakers all together in the harmonious sound of a planet teeming with beings. The three Gods stood amongst their creations, looking at one another.

“But still something was missing.” The voice sighed. “The animals were useful, and entertaining for a time. But the God of Darkness was looking for something to wield against his foe the Light, bridled though he may have been. So, at his suggestion, the three poured the last of themselves into their world.”

The Gods’ powers met in the sky, forming a swirling mass of black, white, and purple. As the streams weakened, the three shapes shrank, and doubled over, until the connection was gone and so were the Gods. The power spun in the sky for a moment before exploding outwards in great streaks. A human shape dropped to the ground and slowly stood up. The black, white, and purple flew out of view.

“Their last act was to create humanity.” The voice sounded...sad? Somber, at least. The screen flashed and the human shape had another beside it.

“The God of Magic’s aether flowed to every person who entered their world, breathing life into all new things and imbuing them with elemental magic of their own.” With another flash more, and more humans appeared, and up from them yellow lightning sprang, red flames blossomed, blue water fountained, and green vines grew.

“The God of Light’s power became the sun,” and dawn rose over the world painting the sky its many hues. “The bright morning star and buoyant hope that allowed the people to grow.” The people began to move, farms springing up as the sun trekked across its daily course.

“Naturally the God of Darkness’s own energy opposed,” and the shadows grew long and the people grew tired as the sun dipped down out of sight. “And created the night, the silent stillness and the terrors waiting at the edge of every person’s mind.”

“Thus the Godly Trio gave up their immortality and strength to their world,” the voice paused as three clearly human shaped people slowly floated down from the sky. They landed on their feet, in front of the people, one clad in a black cloak, still, the next in rich purple clothing, and the last in white armor.  “And so were left standing as mere mortals upon it.”

The scene paused, and Yuri looked at the picture the game had painted. Three great Gods– now men– standing before their subjects who were dressed in drab browns, greens, and greys. A township, similar to what little he’d seen of Nachalo in the background. He felt a question forming on his tongue when the voice came again.

“Here their truce was doomed to expire,” there was that grave tone again. “Each former God championed their own people, and so humanity was split.”

The man in black and the man in white sprang away from each other, leaving the former God of Magic standing alone between them. The age-old enemies reached out to the people behind them and the screen was wiped clean and white. There the prior God of Light was painted with precise and measured brushstrokes, a gleaming but imposing figure.

“Light sharpened the Knights,” as the voice came so did more brushwork, bringing to life a man in shining steel armor astride an immaculate white horse, long broadsword raised triumphantly.

“The Monks,” a man in loose fabric clothes was formed, thickly muscled arms outstretched and hands poised sharply as he balanced on one bare foot while brandishing the other.

“And the Fighters.” A woman joined the other two, in a mixture of steel and leather armor with a sword sheathed at her hip and a long pole ending in a curving blade and sharpened point in her hands.

The four of them let out a rallying cry, sword, fists, and glaive raised to the sky, before fading away as the screen changed. Purple ink flowed in, swimming and spreading over the white until none remained. The man who had once been the God of Magic was painted with seductive lines, curves, and loving strokes of the bristles, like some kind of artistic dance. He stood tall but his body language read only concern as he lifted his arms in entreating urgency, as though needing to protect with his own body.

“Magic sheltered the Bards,” the voice practically purred. A woman with devilishly beautiful features came forth, light leather armor covering selective parts of her well-toned body while skillful hands plucked at a stringed instrument with all the care of a master craftsman at work.

“Druids,” the unseen brush was quicker this time in drawing a thick and solid looking man with cascading straight hair, and distinctly long and pointed ears, wearing varying shades of green armor of some type cut to clearly mimic the shapes of leaves. Twigs sprang from his hair at random, a bright glow radiating from the ground beneath his feet.

“And Sorcerers.” The figure painted now was a study in artistic movement, each feature graceful as it came into being, all to center on a woman in a studded crown, and rich, flowing robes whose hands flared bright with crackling magic that left glowing trails in the air where it had moved.

The whole screen went dark, only to have the ex-God of Darkness rise up larger than life in the background, arms spread wide and head thrown back in what had to be maniacal laughter as angry splashes of red were slashed around him.

“Dark laid claim over Warlocks,” a twisted man with pale skin, in thick leather, with skeletal hands clutching a skull-ended staff was painted in the same sharp, short stabs of color.

“Rogues.” Next came the jagged image of a woman in flowing cloaks with a hood that hid her face in shadow, her hands at her sides each holding a curving blade as long as her arm.

“And Rangers.” Yuri watched as the knife-blade painting of a man clad in the very same armor as his character, with an identical bow, formed to stand beside its companions with an even smile upon his face.

The forces of Darkness struck out every which way as the image of them shredded until all that was left was a symbol. The same symbol Yuri had seen in the painting, the same double As holding up the same orb.

Yuri paused the video and held the phone up to Katsuki.

“This, what is this?” he asked.

Yuuri looked at the screen, then at the teen’s face. “It’s the logo for the game.”

Yuri wilted a bit. “So, it’s not important?”

“You’d have seen it on the home screen.”

“I’ve seen it in a painting,” Yuri explained. “There was a painting of the three gods holding it up?”

“Oh,” Yuuri shrugged a bit and leaned down to unlace his skates. “Christophe’s always had that picture.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “In that bar you mean?”

“Yes,” Katsuki paused and looked up at Yuri, seeing the look of startled victory on his face. “...You didn’t see it there, did you?”

“ _How many are there?_ ” Yuri demanded.

“I mean you’d have to ask Christophe, he’s the one who painted it,” Yuuri frowned. “Where did you see it if not at Giacometti’s?”

“ _I_ saw it in a mountain, a...there were monks…” Yuri was floundering, faced with the fact that he’d had no type of bearing in the game world. He had no idea where or what anything was. Now trying to describe it to someone else…

What had everyone kept yelling at him?

“Obscurité! It’s across a stupid magic bridge from Obscurité!”

Yuuri completely abandoned his laces and sat up, eyebrows raised in utter shock. “How the hell did _you_ get to _Obscurité_ on your _first day_?!”

“Doesn’t matter, the place– _monastery_ , you know it?” Yuri was more than happy to completely sidestep the hurdle that was Otabek, especially with Katsuki. There would be talk of... feelings... no.

Unfortunately Yuuri was not to be derailed. “Who took you?”

“I... a guy, I met.” Yuri focused every ounce of himself on not blushing and giving away everything.

Yuuri’s face brightened. “You made a friend?”

Yuri groaned, already hearing the future gushing of Viktor when the katsudon told him. “Sure, yes, fine, Otabek’s a friend, the _painting,_ Katsuki?”

“Otabek?” Yuuri’s eyes grew huge in shock, and Yuri heard the klaxon blaring far off in his mind.

“Why do you look so surprised?” The blonde’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Do you know him?”

Yuuri’s face colored and he looked down, suddenly deeply absorbed in getting his skates off. Yuri bristled and moved in closer to the older man.

“What do you know about him that you’re not telling me?” Yuri demanded.

Yuuri did his best to ignore the question, and the teen could feel himself ready to shake the man for playing dumb like this all of a sudden. He reached out, intending to follow that urge, when something furry and soft hit him in the back of the head.  The blonde turned and looked up to yell at whatever had accosted him when a hailstorm of plushies pelted him in the face. Through the many, _many_ thrown stuffed cats Yuri could see Viktor standing with that infuriatingly angelic smile on his face.

“What the hell, Viktor?!” Yuri smacked away the last of the cat dolls and jumped to his feet, ignoring the small pile that had fallen around them.

“You needed cheering up,” Viktor explained with a shrug.

“No, I needed _answers_. Your stupid husband won’t tell me why he knows Otabek!”

Viktor blinked silver lashes once, then tilted his head. “Otabek?” The man’s eyes widened and his smile grew to cheshire cat proportions. “Yurio! You joined the game?”

“I... might... have, yes, okay? Yes I joined, there, everyone knows now, happy?” Yuri sighed and sat back down on the bench. “Now will you tell me why everyone else in the world knows Otabek and not me?”  
  
“Otabek’s a player, we know Otabek because he’s been in the game longer than us.” Viktor looked over to Yuuri. “Probably since day one? He’s one of the highest levels there are.”

“So he’s just been there a long time?” Yuri looked over to Yuuri. “That’s what you couldn’t tell me?”

The raven-haired man pulled off a skate and looked up. “You seemed really concerned about him?”

Yuri forced himself to ignore that handsome face in the flickering light of witch flame, and the heat that bloomed on his face now in front of his nosey friends. “He’s... I don’t know anything about him and I want to.”

“With that, we can’t really help you,” Viktor sat on the bench behind Yuri and picked up one of the stuffed animals that lay ignored on the cement. “Not many people know anything about him.”

“We’ve met him a few times, well, Viktor has?” Yuuri offered, speaking carefully. “He was always busy keeping the peace.”

Yuri nudged around a cat plush with his foot. “So... he isn’t evil, then?”

“Otabek? Evil?" Viktor laughed. “Otabek’s anything but.”

“Did he do something bad to you?” Yuuri’s maternal concern shimmered in his eyes.

“No,” Yuri muttered, leaning down to grab one of the plushies and hug it to his chest. “I don’t know. He fought that JJ guy. And some... monster, in the woods. Something weird happened when I was crossing the bridge.”

“Yuri was in Obscurité,” Yuuri informed Viktor.

“I’m glad Otabek was with you, then. He knows those woods better than anyone.”

“Well he _should_ ,” Yuuri agreed.

“I was stuck on the bridge and then that dick came and... magic?” Yuri looked lost as he stared into the cat’s faux fur. “Magic happened. And then he wouldn’t say anything about it.”

“Magic?” Viktor put a hand to his chin. “We can’t help you there either. I’m not a magic user and Yuuri…”

“I’m a fairly non-magical druid these days, actually,” Yuuri chuckled a little. “There was an... incident.”

“You guys are no help,” Yuri grumbled into the cat.

“You should ask someone who’s a sorcerer, or warlock. They’d be able to answer you better,” Yuuri smiled apologetically.

Viktor nodded. “Listen, Yurio, we can tell you that Otabek seemed like a good person when we met him, but you sound like you have reasons to think otherwise.” The Russian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back a bit. “You have to make up your own mind.”

“Viktor’s right, Yuri, we can’t make you go back in or stay out forever. Only you can.”

The blonde buried his face in the plush cat and tried not to scream at just how... annoyingly parental the two of them sounded right now.

“And as for that painting…”

“Painting?” Viktor asked.

“The one that Christophe keeps in his tavern, Yuri says he saw it in a monastery?”

Viktor’s eyes widened a bit in recognition. “Not the one in the golden frame?”

Yuri looked up, “yes?”

“Of the three gods,” Yuuri added helpfully.

“But they’re all–”

“In black!” Viktor grinned. “I _know_ that painting! I tried stealing that painting once, when I first started out!”

“Viktor!” Yuuri admonished.

“So, what?” Yuri asked.

“It isn’t a common one. There are several different items that bear the logo,” Viktor leaned forward towards Yuri, speaking in excited stage whispers. “But the painting in Giacometti’s is special because you can’t actually move it in-game.”

Yuri blinked slowly. “What?”

“I tried!” Viktor put a hand to his cheek and looked away wistfully. “I tried, but it was like it didn’t really exist. I couldn’t touch it!”

Yuuri laughed, “and when Christophe found you trying to steal his things?”

“He tried to drink me under the table for secrets in revenge,” Viktor shrugged lightly. “But I did ask him about it– if it was a glitch or something. This was back in the earlier days of the game, it had been out maybe a month or so?”

“What did he say?” Yuri was entranced now. This was going to be it, this would be what he needed.

“We were both pretty drunk by that point,” Viktor chuckled at the rose-colored memory. “But I remember him saying that it wasn’t a glitch, or even one of a kind.”

Yuri felt his heart sink, and his body slumped along with it. That didn’t tell him anything. He grumbled and threw the toy he’d been buried in back into the pile with its brethren. Where the hell had Viktor been _keeping_ all of these…?

“What’s so special about that?”

Viktor winked. “I asked the very same thing!”

“...And?” Yuri prompted, when Viktor didn’t continue.

“And,” Viktor smirked, and Yuri felt himself pinned in place by the Russian’s predatory gaze. “You’ll just have to ask him yourself.”

“What!”

“We have to go, Yurio, it was so nice seeing you!” Viktor smiled that vacuous smile that Yuri knew he saved for reporters, the mask that the man put on for the public.

Katsuki had finished pulling his other skate off and got up to put them in his bag, carefully avoiding any kind of eye contact with Yuri as he did so.

“Oh, come on,” Yuri whined incredulously. “You can’t do that, what the hell Viktor?!”

The tall man in question just picked up his bag, as his lover did the same behind him, and they waved as the two disappeared into the corridor that led to the locker rooms and then out. Leaving Yuri sitting on the bench, up to his shins in cat plushies and steaming mad.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude this chapter...it tried to kill me, I kid you not. So many thanks to my Beta/BFF [Kitty_KatAllie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie) for being her awesome self and keeping me motivated even when I wanted to scream and just write "and then they fucked, the end" XD   
> ALSO! I have a Viktuuri prequel in the planning stages, to tell the story of how Yuuri and Viktor met in the game.  
> I'm always up for chatting and stuff so you can drop a comment here or I'm over at my tumblr [royceclayton.tumblr.com](royceclayton.tumblr.com)! See you next chapter!


	6. Snow Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo all, thank you for the patient wait, enjoy the chapter!

Yuri found himself hesitating slightly as he sat down at his computer desk again. Viktor and Yuuri had been slightly helpful, once he’d cooled off and thought it back over. There was a lead, at least. The painting was all he had. Otabek certainly wasn’t forthcoming, but Christophe seemed the type to gush at anything particularly scandalous. Any man willing to take Viktor on in the game of drink just for secrets was a brave and nosey man indeed. It was no small feat, Yuri had seen Viktor in his younger years out drink far larger men all with that simple smile on his face. Viktor got loopy, Viktor got sloppy, but Viktor never lost control. The man was a demon in angel’s wings.

“Tsk.” Yuri kicked his leg out and spun slowly in his chair, folding himself up smaller into the seat.

That train of thought got him nowhere. He knew far too much about Viktor and far too little about anything important. As the chair slowed to a stop, ending with Yuri perfectly aligned with the innocuous monitor, the teen straightened up. There was only one way to find out. Yuri grabbed his mouse and shook the computer awake, the soft strain of a piano piece whispering through the speakers on either side of him. His cursor hovered perilously over the X in the corner of the window, a random roll of chance upon the wiggling of the mouse. The teen stared at the main menu screen for the game, watching the swirling wisps of color float across the logo he was now so familiar with. 

He took one last, long glance around the room, then leaned in and clicked ‘Log In.’

*~*~*~*

Coming back into the game was like breaking the surface of water after a long time down, that first great gasp for air that was somehow sweeter than any other in a lifetime. Yuri found himself sitting bolt upright in a plain wooden bed, panting softly while his body reaffirmed that he was once more ‘alive’ and well. He looked around the bare room and threw off the cotton sheet that covered him, standing and shaking out his limbs. 

Where the hell was he?

_ Wherever you save is wherever you come back the next time. _

“Okay,” Yuri muttered to himself, taking quick stock of himself and finding everything just as he had left it. Looking around again he could believe he was in an ascetic monk’s room; empty stone walls, cold stone floor, and only a candle at the bedside for light. 

Yuri went and opened the door, peeking out into a long corridor. Sconces lined the tops of the walls while doors dotted them below. Yuri passed rows of identical rooms side by side, glancing through the small windows in each wooden door to see if anyone was around. Finally the hallway ended at a door that Yuri gladly pushed open, expecting the grand great hall he’d been in before. 

Instead, Yuri found himself in some kind of library. It was a large round room, with high curved bookshelves laid into the walls, each one full to bursting with colorful spines.  A couch and loveseat sat to one side, and a smattering of chairs vaguely circled the table, though all but one was laying on the floor haphazardly. As though the people sitting had left in a rush, or someone had flailed around in a fury. A large and sturdy table sat center of the large circular rug that covered the floor completely in swirling patterns, both covered in books roughly thrown or loose papers and pages that had flown free in the chaos.

Sitting in the lone upright chair, carefully replacing a page into a large, gold edged book, was a monk. He was young, with short black hair, wearing layered robes. The outermost layer was a deep crimson with gold edging that ran from his left hip diagonally upwards to drape his right shoulder and arm. The layer inside did the same for his left shoulder and right hip in rich navy blue with silver trim. Inside that layer, visible only from the waist down and the neck up, was another robe, simpler it seemed, in a plain black design that ended in a hood laying against the monk’s neck and back as he hunched over his work on the table.

Yuri turned to leave, as Otabek was no where in this room unless hidden behind a trap door.

“He logged out.”

The blonde blinked and looked again, but the monk was still seated just the same, deeply absorbed in his work.

Yuri hesitated before asking, “Otabek, you mean?”

“Yes.” The monk turned a few thin vellum pages, then looked over at the neat row of loose pages he must have laid out beforehand.

Yuri felt his insides go a bit cold. He had been ready to speak to Otabek, to demand answers, and, failing that, push the issue with the painting at least, trying to find any kind of foothold in the ever-shifting mountain of loose roofing tile secrets that was the dark haired knight. But Otabek wasn’t here.

_ I can give you two days. _

It had only barely been one.

_ But if you come back… _

He was tired of the voice inside his head not being his own. He was tired of that stupid low voice, those dumb smouldering eyes, those idiotically inviting lips–

“If you are having a moment, I suggest you have it elsewhere.”

Yuri came crashing back into his own body and groaned, rubbing his temples. Stupid,  _ stupid _ Otabek. “Did he say anything before he...logged out? Anything at all?”

“Yes.”

When the monk said no more, Yuri felt the wall holding together all of his sanity creak. Carefully biting back the words that  _ immediately _ sprang to mind, he prompted, “ _ and _ ?”

The monk put down the book and stood, turning to look at Yuri. The teen had been right, he was certainly young looking, one of those faces that put him perhaps permanently in the teenage category, only for the intensely blank expression to instantly ratchet the age up. Thick but well groomed brows perched over washed-out-grey-brown eyes that led to a sloped nose and thin line of a mouth. It wasn’t a frown, that would have been too lively. It was just... void.

“And what?” the monk asked.

“ _ And what did he  _ **_say_ ** ?!” Yuri ground out.

“What benefit is there for me in telling you?”

“Listen–” Yuri held up an accusing finger and paused. “What the hell is your name?”

The monk scoffed. “That’s unness–”

“Tell me your god damned name,” Yuri snapped, his hands moving unconsciously to grab his bow and pull back the string. An arrow of water materialized immediately, and the blonde gave the monk a wild look. “Or so help me I will shoot.”

“Your level one water spell will do, at most, 20 points of damage to my nine thousand HP.” The older man shook his head. “You are no threat to me.”

“I’m not aiming at  _ you, _ ” Yuri rumbled, a deep strain of growl to his voice as one side of his mouth quirked up in a half-crazed smirk. “What does a level one water spell do to a book, I wonder?”

The monk gazed across the room at the ranger, face giving away nothing. A minute that felt like forever passed between the two in silence.

“Seung-gil,” the monk finally offered.

“Yuri,” the blonde replied. He eased the string back and the water disappeared, allowing him to put his bow back completely dry. “Now, Seung-gil, tell me what Otabek said. Please.”

“Only that there was something family related he had to deal with. He will return shortly.” The monk tilted his head back a little, eyeing Yuri more carefully. “He did say this was for someone matching your description.”

“There can’t be that many blonde-haired, blue-eyed rangers running around this place.”

“He neglected to mention either trait, in fact. No, he described someone exceptionally short-tempered and likely willing to pull his bow at the slightest provocation or perceived slight,” Seung-gil shifted slightly, an emotion finding itself scared and alone in the barren tundra of his face. For someone so closed off, it was practically a thousand-watt smile. “And here you are.”

Yuri gave him a pointed look, displeasure evident, and spoke in a flat voice, “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

Yuri took a deep breath. “Right, so, just that he’d be back? Is that it? Nothing else?” The monk gave a single-shouldered shrug and Yuri sighed. “Well, I’ll leave you to... it... here. What happened here?”

Seung-gil took in the room and disarray around himself, then looked back at Yuri. “Otabek was looking for something.”

The blonde’s ears pricked up and he stepped forward a bit, eyeing the papers and books on the floor far more critically now. “What was he looking for?”

The monk turned his back and sat back down at the table. “Why would I know?”

“You’re killing me here,” Yuri grumbled, picking up a leather bound book and scanning the title.  _ Heptameron _ . “No clues? Does any of this stuff have anything in common?”

Yuri took the book and set it on the table, looking at the other books gathered.  _ The Voynich Manuscript, Codex Seraphinianus, The Grand Grimoire _ ... it was all Greek to Yuri. They all seemed old, though.

“They’re all books on Magic.” Seung-gil returned to his previous work, examining another loose page and grousing a bit to himself, “they never number them.”

“Magic?” Yuri could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as a cold and slimy eel-like sensation glooped down his spine and sent goosebumps over his arms. “Good Magic? Or…”

“Magic does not have an alignment,” the monk mused, sans the whimsy. “Magic is a tool. It is no more evil than a hammer. What people do with it is what makes the difference.”

Yuri braced both hands on the table and leaned in, his serious face set in stone. “There is evil Magic. I’ve seen it. The Dark Lord wields it like a toy.”

Seung-gil lifted his head and met Yuri’s eyes. “The Dark Lord is just another player. With the right  _ tools _ anyone can beat him.”

“You mean Magic,” Yuri narrowed his eyes.

“I mean every buffing enchantment and spell in the advanced player’s codex along with a fully maxed out character who has cross-classed into no fewer than four other categories and then mastered those tiers as well as their own, with a player behind it all who is capable of deft strikes, perfect dodges, and pixel perfect precision counters while themselves being backed up with a group of five AOE casting healers.”

Yuri blinked and eased back, raising an eyebrow as almost all of the monk’s words sailed right over his head.

“Yes, I mean Magic.” Seung-gil simplified. He looked at the books stacked high around him on the table. “These are all books on manipulation Magic, though I’ve yet to find  _ The Picatrix _ which I know we have a copy of.”

“So maybe Otabek has it?” Yuri tried to hold back the hopeful ring in his voice. 

“You would have to take it up with him.” Seung-gil put his head down and returned to his little realm of the singular book’s repair, dismissing Yuri.

The blonde groaned and ran a hand over his face. Great,  _ another _ thing he would have to ask Otabek about. Because the knight had been so helpful with his inquiries thus far. Well. Yuri shook off the doldrums and headed for the door.

“He seemed sorry.”

Yuri stopped for a moment, his hand against the door frame, and then kept on walking.

*~*~*

Thankfully the only other way through the hallway led him out into the large hall he’d been expecting earlier when he’d come across the very... interesting young monk. Once there, Yuri could make his way back to the little room that contained the painting. Now, without Otabek breezing through the room, Yuri could get a better look.

And a better feel. 

More than ever, after Viktor’s tale, Yuri had wanted to touch the frame to see if it was just as intangible as Christophe’s had been. While Viktor was fully capable of bold-faced lying, he by far preferred inflating half truths into something grandiose. His story hadn’t felt like either, and Yuri was fairly confident in his Viktometer.

Yuri lifted his hands to take hold of the golden frame, and beamed in satisfaction when they passed right through to the stone wall behind it. He let out a small laugh, then took a step back and laughed again. Finally, a definitive answer to something. Even if it only raised more questions there was at least one thing he could say he knew for sure. This painting and the one in Christophe’s tavern were connected somehow.

Now, what to do about this piece of information.

He needed to get to Christophe, even if was just a phone call, he needed to ask questions. Of course, there was no cell reception in Abrea. Yuri swore under his breath and paced in front of the picture. How the hell did you talk to anyone in this game?

_ You open it, silly, and then our characters are friends and we can talk, even if we're not in the same place. _

The teen narrowed his eyes as the witch’s voice bubbled up from his memory. He searched his cloak and pockets for the scrolls, pulling both out with a triumphant flourish. The two inoffensive looking rolls of parchment looked identical, except for the shapes pressed into the wax seals. One was a heart split into two jagged broken halves. The other was of a hand raising a single finger to a pair of lips in a coquettish manner.

Yuri rolled his eyes and stashed Georgiana’s letter back in his pockets before breaking the seal on Christophe’s.

The paper sprang from his hands and hung in the air in front of him, sparks of green and purple and red flicking, spitting, and fizzing off its edges until the paper was all but burned away. The letters inside seemed to come alive, writhing like worms in a fire until they burned white hot and stilled in place where their paper had once been, spelling out ‘Christophe Giacometti’ in flowing cursive script. All at once the writing rushed him, spearing into his chest and leaving Yuri shaking a bit at the feeling of ice cubes sitting in his stomach. The teen shook his head and found his feet, then growled.

“What the hell?!

“Hello, Little Ranger,” a voice cooed in his ear.

Yuri jerked sideways, caught off guard that all of a sudden Christophe was there, beside him, leaning in far too close for comfort- personal or otherwise. The blonde flailed for a moment before getting himself under control again.

“Where the hell did you come from?!” Yuri demanded.

Christophe lifted a finger to his slightly open mouth, innocent surprise painting his features in a mask all too familiar to the teen whose Viktometer was pinging off the charts. “Moi?”

“Do. Not.” Yuri gritted out.

“Relax, Yuri, I’m not really there.” Christophe waved off the aggressive body language of the blonde teen and looked around. “I’m in my tavern, we’re just chatting in-game. Consider me your fairy godmother. No one can see me but you.”

“So, right now, I’m talking to the wall?” Yuri asked slowly. “Why can I see you at all then, why not just have it be some kind of voice chat?”

“Aren’t I a far better visual than some wall?”

Yuri tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at the pseudo-imaginary bartender. “Can you see where I am?”

“No,” Christophe smirked. “What are you up to that you don’t want me to see?”

Yuri shook his head. “I have some questions.”

“Oh dear,” Christophe tilted his head a bit. “I’m an open book.”

“It’s about paintings,” Yuri began innocently.

The bartender batted his eyelashes and put a hand to his chest. “I am a bit of a connoisseur–”

Yuri dove in for the kill, cutting the man off. “Paintings that you can’t touch.”

Christophe’s face went blank, which was plenty telling in its own right. He crossed his arms and slowly rolled his eyes up and over before settling them again on Yuri. “I think you’d better come and see me.”

“I have no way of getting to you,” Yuri pointed out.

The older man looked down as he put a hand in his cloak pocket. “You’re in the Monastery outside of Obscurité still? I’ll come and get you.”

“Wonderful, how do I hang up?” But even as Yuri asked, Christophe’s image seemed to collapse as it walked towards him, liquefying and splashing to the floor in one instant and shooting up to reform into something fundamentally more solid with a soft puff of purple smoke in the next.

Yuri just caught the glint of the Jump Stone dangling from Christophe’s hand before he felt the man’s hand on him and they were away at last.

“Warn a guy!” Yuri bit out as his stomach tried to catch up on foot to his body that had flown through magic. If he ever found the guy who designed the Jump Stones and that– that  _ wretched _ sensation, he had a few choice words. And choice fists, while he was at it. “That was fucking awful.”

“Really? My stones usually ride a lot smoother than the average dime a dozen ones,” Christophe frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Ah well.”

Yuri lifted his head and glared at the older man before heaving himself up to his full height and looking around. They were in a tavern, to be sure, the long polished wood bar counter gave it away in a second, but this place felt different than what he remembered of Giacometti’s. The first place had a cozy smokey interior. This place was warm enough to cause sweat to bead down the back of Yuri’s neck. Candles burned in the same sort of wagon wheel chandeliers but these all flickered with solicitous red flames that seemed to fill the room and make it smaller.

“Where are we?”

“Giacometti’s,” Christophe was already behind the bar, busying himself with a box he pulled up from behind it and set on the counter. “This would be my second location.”

“Of how many?” Yuri asked, looking around and shifting uncomfortably at the hothouse atmosphere.

“Oh...well. One for every village in the land.”

Yuri sat at the bar and looked across at the older man. “You’re  _ the _ bartender, for this whole world, this whole game?”

“Call me a social butterfly,” Christophe chuckled, pulling some metal tankards from the cabinets behind the bar and putting them into the box. “I do have a replacement, I’m not omnipresent or anything. When I log out, an NPC takes my place. He’s a nice man.”

Yuri slumped on the bar top moodily. “You have far too much power.”

“What can I say? I asked the gods... and they gave me a gift.” Christophe let out a dreamy sigh, cheeks rosy.

The teen snorted rudely and looked away. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and you bring me to a completely new place and try to distract me so that I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Not at all, Yuri.” Christophe waved his hand dismissively. When Yuri snorted again in disbelief, Christophe patted the boy’s blonde head and then pushed the box towards him. “I brought you to be useful. Be a dear and use those strong young muscles for me? If you do... I promise to tell you about the painting.”

Yuri glared across the counter. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

The blonde grumbled under his breath for a moment, then stood and lifted the heavy box.

“Alright, where are we going?”

Christophe chuckled and stepped out from behind the bar with a flourish. “Let me just get a few more little things…”

*~*~*

An hour later Yuri followed the older man through the doorway and out into the bright daylight. But instead of the warm and sleepy rustic village that he had expected, Yuri was hit full in the face by a blast of frigid air. Folk music, laughter, and the murmur of at least a hundred people happily chattering all floated through the air, filling the teen’s head with flashes of the festivals his grandfather had taken him to when he was younger. 

The tavern exited out into what looked like a winter hillside, soft fluffy snow blanketing the ground, trees, and the small farm houses nestled into the countryside. More than that though, rising up in the far distance, was a castle. A light aqua and white, the structure was enormous even from the distance, tall spires on each of the four towers joining the low fortified wall. It was the perfect fairy tale brought to life.

“They’ve certainly outdone themselves haven’t they,” Christophe cooed, leaning his cheek into his hand.

“This is...a thing?” Yuri looked over at him.

Christophe smiled coyly. “Oh yes, Carnaval is the biggest event we have in this part of the kingdom.”

The bartender led Yuri through a walkway plowed through knee high snow drifts into what looked to be a full blown fair. Stalls lined the outer edges of a huge mosaic tiled circle, the smell of maple and sugar and warm comfort foods swirling around the people lined up for it all in eager anticipation. Everyone was dressed in winter clothes, gloves and scarves and ski caps of all colors hiding all but the barest peek of rosy cheeks and chilled noses. 

The people turned and waved or bowed to them as the two players passed, greetings and smiles on everyone’s lips. Christophe was only too happy to reciprocate in his usual flirtatious way, but Yuri was just overwhelmed. The fake people had never been so...lively. They all moved around the same, sure, but from the little bit that he had seen, none of them had ever initiated any kind of conversation. If they had, Yuri would have been able to save far sooner and far safer. Then again, he probably would never have met Otabek, and that was…

Wait.

Where the fuck was the lech?

Yuri blinked rapidly and swiveled his head around, trying to find any glimpse of the man, but he was gone and the crowd was surging against the teen to go somewhere else, the people once more rather blind to him. He fought to keep his ground, gripping the box tighter to his chest for protection– now more his own than that of the contents. He felt a wave of chill panic rush through him, but it quickly passed. He had fought monsters, and evil lords... this was just…

This was just being with his fanclub.

He could handle this.

The young ranger relaxed and let himself move with the crowd, which washed him right out of the little seller’s circle down through a pathway in the snow that they all neatly and carefully followed. Not a step out of place, no new footprints created, until Yuri’s own trotted along to keep up. At one point the snow had risen, piling up until it was taller than any of the people, walls of it built up on either side until they passed underneath an archway of the same thick blue and white bricks as the castle had to be. Up close now, Yuri could tell the stones were actually ice, semi translucent and carefully formed ice.

So coming through the other side which opened up into a flattened snowy field, of course the teen’s eyes shot to where the castle lay ahead, wonder dancing in them. An ice castle. It wasn’t as though they had created fire, igloos were certainly part of the popular consciousness, and Yuri himself had spent enough time outside playing with Russia’s own powdery frost, trying to build his own little worlds. But the scale, the enormity of it, and the thought of the undertaking, blew his mind.

The throng of people ebbed, thinning as the villagers spread out to follow more little pathways leading to little hubs of activity. A frozen lake stretched out in the distance, and banners and flags marked out another happening that the people went off to clump around. And in the field around them were sculptures. Yuri had made snowmen before but…

A snowdragon, with huge wings unfurling as its thin whiplike tail curled, poised with mouth aflame to roast an unfortunate snowknight. Each and every scale was expertly carved, the beast lifelike enough to frighten the small children that quickly skittered away.

Snow packed tightly into gravity defying hexagons in a seven foot high, four foot wide honeycomb, complete with guardian snowbee that looked so sharp, so lovingly formed, that Yuri could practically hear the buzz as he walked by it.

Yuri stopped on the pathway, pausing to look up at the tall visage of a proud and regal horse rearing up, teeth gnashing and eyes wild. Its rider was an officer if Yuri was any judge of the intricately minute details of medals on the man’s uniform lifting a saber high to the sky in defiance of whatever invisible foe was stupid enough to stand against him.

The teen walked on, admiring a sculpted ocean of snow holding a curvaceous, beguiling mermaid riding on the back of a large manta ray. Real shells were pressed into the snow, giving color and something solid to the whole thing. Yuri chuckled, the mermaid’s face reminding him of one of the ballerinas he’d known while he was training. 

The winding trail in the snow weaved its way around the many sculptures, and Yuri found himself enjoying the festive atmosphere, the impressive pieces, and even the snow and cold weather. It reminded him of home. The real world. The path reached its end and circled around the last piece, even including a bench made from the now-familiar ice blocks so people could rest and admire it.

The man cut an impressive figure, tall, noble, in all too easily recognizable aristocratic garb. JJ’s handsome face peered down at whoever stood before him like a king granting audience to his subject. But the sculptor had been careful, and sure handed, and created a king who was far from the relentless tyrant Yuri had such vivid impressions of. It was easy to tell, the artist’s feelings sang from every minor touch, from the gentle edges of the smile tugging his lips, to the warmth that managed to radiate from his eyes despite the ice and snow that formed them. Whoever  _ this _ man was, Yuri had never met him.

“It’s a labor of love,” a rich voice rumbled.

Yuri turned, by now less prone to startling, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless to see Otabek standing a few feet away. His eyes widened, however, when he noticed just what the knight was wearing. Gone was the shining heavy armor and the broadsword strapped to his back, all replaced by some very relaxed looking pants, a black leather jacket zipped tight, and long gray scarf draped artfully around his neck. The man smiled slightly, and Yuri felt his heartbeat quicken, pounding at jackrabbit speed as Otabek moved closer to stand beside him and look up at the snow.

“Otabek–”

“Beka,” the knight tilted his head a bit, still engrossed in the sculpture. When Yuri only let out a soft little squeak, he shrugged. “My friends call me Beka. If running from monsters and dark lords doesn’t qualify you, I don’t know what will.”

“Beka,” Yuri tried out the name, liking the way it felt in his mouth. It suited this version of the man, inviting even if his face still rested in natural blankness. “Ah... I don’t really have…”

What could he say? The  _ Ice Tiger of Russia _ felt... silly here. Yuri came by many names from many sources, most of them derogatory thanks in no small part to his temper and skittish nature. Viktor called him  _ Yurio, _ but that was just for the sake of ease, and because he knew it drove the teen insane. There was always…

“Yuratchka,” the teen could feel his cheeks burst into flame the moment his ears caught up to his mouth. His  _ grandfather _ called him that, and he loved the man dearly, but Yuri wasn’t too sure if he could handle the man who raised him and the man he was so strongly attracted to using the same moniker. “My grandfather, he calls me... uhm…”

“Yura then,” Otabek gave a firm nod, and thus Yuri was named.

He rather liked it. It held the closeness he related with his grandfather, but it was uniquely Otabek’s. He didn’t want to hear anyone else use it.

“Yura,” the blonde agreed with a nod of his own. He turned his attention to the frozen monarch. “You said it was a labor of love?”

“The woman who made it is his fiancee.”  Otabek sighed softly. “This is how she sees him.”

Yuri squinted, but no matter what he did he couldn’t recognize the man. “They say love is blind.”

Otabek laughed a little. “Well, outside of the game she would be right.”

“You know JJ outside of the game?” Yuri looked at the other man in wonder.

“I do,” Otabek nodded, and turned away from the statue to start down the path they had come. Yuri gave the frozen king one last look before following suit and walking beside Otabek.

“How did you find me?” Yuri asked, feeling a need to keep the knight talking, enjoying the flow and timber of his voice, and just how open he was being for once. “You weren’t there when I logged back in.”

“I had to deal with some pressing family business.”

“So Seung-gil said,” Yuri pouted just a little. “Is everyone okay?”

Otabek nodded his head, then granted Yuri a teasing smile. “They’ll be fine. You know, contrary to everything you’ve seen so far, I don’t actually live in the game. I do go outside every once in awhile.”

“This place suits you better. You have the whole tall, dark, and broody thing going for you” Yuri  quirked an eyebrow and tried to sound casual. “Assuming this is actually what you look like?”

Yuri held his breath, knowing that he was fishing just a little bit too hard. But, really, the opportunity wouldn’t come again and he’d segued rather nicely if he did say so himself. He wanted to know.

Otabek stopped for a moment and fixed his eyes to Yuri’s when the teen faced him. Those secretive brown eyes felt like they were digging straight into the blonde’s soul, leaving him naked and bare for all the world to see. Otabek was intense, his gaze equally so, but Yuri had been feeling exposed for a while now and found the examination less disconcerting than most probably would. This just felt... almost okay. Almost  _ nice _ even, because Otabek was looking at him, at  _ him _ , rather than the brash and abrasive defensive wall he put up around him at all times.

Some part of Yuri’s brain stood down, and his entire bearing relaxed.

The all-seeing eyes across from him watched with interest, and a smile broke out on the knight’s face. “This,” he said finally, gesturing at himself, “is what I really look like.”

Yuri found himself smiling back, relief flooding his system. He knew he had a million other questions he needed to ask, but just getting that one thing cemented was... it was important to him. Now he could see Otabek in a crowd. Or if he was coming at him like some kind of crazy stalker fan with a knife because he had looked at another girl.

It had happened before.

Yakov had made him take a self-defense class.

The ranger was pulled from his memories when Otabek started walking again. Yuri took up his place beside him, looking ahead at all the people gathering in the hub of all the paths on this side of the ice tunnel. As they came closer the people turned and greeted them. At least this time he was far more comfortable, and better able to reply back. But when he waved…

When he waved, the people didn’t seem to notice. Their eyes were all set on Otabek, and while Yuri could certainly see the appeal the hairs rising on the back of his neck told him something else was at work here. When the blonde shot eyes to the man beside him, Otabek’s face was relaxed but blank, as though he either didn’t hear and see the townsfolk, or he didn’t want to acknowledge them. But there was little doubting that Otabek was who they were seeing. And this...wasn’t actually a new thing, was it? He’d seen it...before. 

Christophe.

Yuri’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Christophe! The NPCs had adored him, fawning over and greeting him just the same. Yuri had been overwhelmed, before, and so hadn’t thought to gauge just where the computer people’s attentions lie but that had to be it. He felt a triumphant smile break out over his face. He had them now. He could finally run some string and  _ connect  _ two of the many,  _ many _ pins in the metaphorical crime drama style corkboard in his head. 

Christophe and Otabek. The villagers responded to  _ Christophe _ , and  _ Otabek _ ,  _ and no one else _ .

Well, no one else that  _ he’d _ seen.

“You know they don’t do that for me,” Yuri pointed out, trying to sound nonchalant even though he was mentally fist pumping the small but significant victory. “They only get excited for you... and Christophe.”

Otabek’s lips twitched, and for the briefest of seconds something like surprise darted through. “Oh, really?”

“Something else you don’t want to tell me?” Because he’d been down this road before.

“The people see me as their hero,” Otabek offered with a roll of the shoulders that must have been a shrug, but looked even more noncommittal. “They call me their saviour. It’s a bit extreme, really.”

Yuri’s neck almost cracked, he turned to gape at Otabek so quickly. Even with the nonchalant way they were said, the words themselves were not something Yuri expected to hear. He hadn’t been expecting much of any reply, because really, how long could the charity really last with someone as secluded as Otabek? But this…  _ savior _ ? Like it was  _ nothing _ ?! 

They were walking down the main path again, heading for the ice tunnel and back towards the bustling marketplace stalls. The stares and bows were still coming, and Yuri was rolling it over in his head, wondering why a bunch of pixels would be programmed to think about a regular player – okay, a pretty powerful, long time player – as their  _ savior _ . Yuri was a bit sad for the end of ice tunnel, actually. He had wanted to see more... but then again he was content, or something like content, to follow Otabek’s tour now that he was getting answers and actually  _ enjoying _ a conversation with the man, if only because it didn’t feel like he was beating his head against a wall. He sure as hell wasn’t going to leave the  _ savior _ alone. Damn it that was going to stick in his head, he just knew it. 

After a long moment of serious thought and glancing between the crowd and Otabek’s still passively neutral expression, Yuri froze. 

No. 

_ Fuck me, It couldn’t be… _

Who the hell was he kidding?

“It’s JJ.” Yuri gritted out, mentally kicking himself as hard as an agitated mule for not hitting it sooner. There was an audible disturbance as the NPCs pulled back and away from them as much as they could.  “Is this some Harry Potter shit? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

“It makes them uneasy. They’re programed to fear him,” Otabek explained. He granted the people around them a slight bow of the head, a sign of some kind of good will that rebalanced the scales in their world and set them back to their appointed paths. “It probably seems silly from a newcomer’s perspective, but within the game he is a force of nature unbridled and only kept from swallowing the lands by... well... by those who oppose him.”

“ _ You _ , you mean.” Yuri pressed. “ _ You _ oppose him.  _ You _ keep him from swallowing the lands.”

Otabek sighed so softly only the puff of frozen air from his lips gave it away. “Yes.”

“Alone?” Yuri tried to keep his mind on perfectly platonic reasons for the odd lilt in his voice when he asked.

“Now, yes. It wasn’t always thus.” Otabek reached out and wrapped an arm around Yuri’s shoulder to pull him closer. The path back through the tunnel was like swimming up a very crowded waterfall, villagers pouring through shoulder to shoulder in a rush to see the sights.

Yuri felt his face heat up and lowered his eyes, trying to keep the other man from seeing just what the casual contact did to him. He knew he couldn’t hide the way he smiled, or the bloom of electrical heat in his chest, or the way his mind went from frenetic straw-grasping to fuzzy television snow. He would just blame the cold, if the other said anything about it. So for the moment, Yuri allowed himself the chance to just enjoy being close to someone else, let alone someone he  _ liked.  _ He could count on one hand the number of crushes he’d had in his admittedly short life thus far, and beyond the odd fantasy, nothing physical had ever come from any of it. Unless the occasional peck on the cheeks from Viktor counted. 

Given that the quirky Russian gigolo tended to give those out like an economically unwise bartender gave out drinks, Yuri considered them negligible. 

He did his best to prepare himself for it all to end when the crowd died down on the other side, but to his surprise Otabek’s arm lingered. Yuri braved a glance upward in Otabek’s direction, and only then did the other man pull away, as if he’d been waiting for Yuri to... what? Say something? He couldn’t find words, not then, not when those brown eyes were smoldering with some kind of damning emotion that Yuri’s body parsed far quicker than his brain. Only once the unspoken had passed between them did Otabek look away towards the food stalls ahead. Yuri forced himself through sheer willpower to keep walking, even as he swore he’d left himself nailed in place right there amidst the snowdrifts and villagers.

“S-o,” Yuri swallowed around his suddenly thickened tongue and attempted to speak without sounding like a pubescent teen squeaking. “So do you know about this festival?”

“It’s been running since the game’s creation, and it’s probably the most anticipated?” Otabek motioned to all the hubbub around them. “There are a lot of quests that only happen during Carnaval, a lot of themed loot and gear, even familiars. The other players will be coming soon, some are already mixing in and taking part.”

“Like...what kinds of quests?”

*~*~*

What had started out as an innocently curious question had led Yuri through a series of odd but fun episodes. The first was to make something called maple taffy, which a confectioner taught them to do. It was a bizarre sort of minigame, but Yuri found himself amused when the man poured boiling hot liquid maple syrup onto a big block of snow and teased and toyed at it with a simple stick, resulting in a sweet lollipop-like treat that was gooey, chewy, and glued his mouth shut. Of course, Otabek had to be perfect at it, while Yuri was far more... Maple syrup was probably good for hair, right? At least the snow cooled it before he could burn himself too badly. There was a score total applied, and Yuri had come up just short, despite his best efforts. So, when the sweets man handed Otabek his “Official Carnaval Scarf” in reward, the knight just wrapped the cozy-warm knitting around Yuri’s neck and led him off to the next event. The blushing blonde buried his burning cheeks into the soft yarn of the gift and hurried to catch up.

Next had come some more recognizable carnival style games. These Yuri was at least familiar with, if only in that “I know all of these are rigged but I’m still going to win” sort of way. Tossing rings around bottles, throwing darts shaped like fish at boards painted like bears mouths, knocking over a pyramid of mini snowmen with a single throw. Games of chance, games of skill, they all had prizes attached to them, little things like gloves, a hat, boots, and figurines. Yuri refused to let Otabek win anything for him, determined to pay the other man back for the scarf from before, and the teen was able to accomplish almost all of them within one or two tries by sheer gumption. But when he held all the prizes out, Otabek fondly waved them away, insisting Yuri keep hold of them for the time being. It was only after the blonde set the biggest of pouts on him that the knight took up a pair of earmuffs with bear ears on the headband.

Yuri lost himself in the glitz of it all, eager for whatever the next quest would bring. He could see how people could spend years here in the game, if this was what quests were like. They were consuming, disorienting tasks. Some of it was down to Yuri’s stubborn determination and competitiveness, but the plain truth of it was that he was having fun. And Beka seemed to be having fun too, just showing Yuri around and watching him experience things for the first time.

_ This game is supposed to be fun. _

The look of pure wonder and delighted excitement that lit up Yuri’s expressive face as he pulled up a fish from the hole in the ice was something like pure artistry. The blonde caught Otabek laughing when he thought Yuri wasn’t looking due to dancing victoriously around, showing off his catch before his focus on the knight broke and he was squeaking in shock as the fish, enchanted for this very purpose, jumped off the hook and plunked right back into the frigid waters. The teen’s feline response of dropping down to stare after it into the hole…

Of all the things that Yuri expected from today, sitting bundled up and sharing a blanket in an honest to goodness one-horse open-sleigh wasn’t one of them. The warm, solid body pressing invitingly beside him was just...beyond belief.

Nevermind that the self-steering One Horse was some kind of snow golem in a generally equine shape that he had won from the ice fishing contest.

Nevermind that the sleigh had come from a victory over a rough looking villager in the first real dogsledding race Yuri had ever seen in his life, and he’d even been the musher.

Nevermind that everything, from the bite of frost on his cheeks kept at bay by his gifted scarf as they trotted through the picturesque winter forest to the comfortably dozy and sated sensation that radiated out from him in soft happy sighs and gentle smiles…

Everything was manufactured.

Nevermind any of that.

Yuri looked over at Otabek, smiling easily now after the day’s activities and comradery. The older man had his arm resting along the back of the sleigh’s seat, and Yuri was trying to think of a good way of getting that arm back around him again.

“Today was really fun,” Yuri said. He felt a flash of awkwardness at his stating of the obvious but pushed past it quickly. “Thank you, for showing me around, and stuff.”

“My pleasure,” Otabek replied easily, more relaxed now than ever as he watched the trees pass them by.

Yuri’s entire being seemed centered on the proximity of the other man now. “I finally get it now, what you meant. Uhm, about how it’s supposed to be... fun.”

Otabek met Yuri’s searching gaze and smiled. “I’m glad. That’s really what I wanted today to be.”

Yuri nodded a little, finding himself tongue-tied at this point, but also compelled to fill any silence that fell between them. Left without words, his body decided to make the next logical leap forward for him.

Otabek at least gave him the courtesy of feigning surprise when their lips met, returning the rather chaste but enthusiastic surge of Yuri’s body towards him with a tilt of the head that brought them impossibly closer and deepened the kiss.

Yuri felt the other man’s strong arm slide down comfortably around his shoulders and heard victory trumpets blaring alongside the pounding of his own heart in his own ears made all the louder when the other’s firm yet gentle hand came to cup the side of his face and plunge them deeper still.

Once the very real fact that he was kissing Otabek,  _ and that Otabek was kissing  _ **_back_ ** , clicked in Yuri’s head it was all down-teenage-hormones-hill. What started as one spur of the moment kiss turned into several deep, probing kisses, morphing further still into--  _ dare he say it _ \--full blown making out. The same eager and competitive nature he applied to the Carnaval quests reared its head here too, while youthful inexperience turned him clumsy. Otabek was the perfect gentleman, taking the metaphorical reins while his very physical free hand took Yuri’s and squeezed tightly.

And it was through all of this, the lust, the frenzy, the clutter and clatter of teeth and tongue and lips, that one very sharp thought rose up and out of Yuri’s mouth in a breathy soul shattering gasp.

“You’re saying goodbye.”


	7. Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you for sticking with me. I'm sorry I missed the September deadline, I had finally gotten a 2nd job that same week and trying to balance both with my school was just...a lot. I've managed to finally find my zen and I'm back with a vengeance! Enjoy guys! I'm back on schedule!

“You SON OF A BITCH!”

He was beyond livid. He couldn’t even see straight, he wanted to beat the ever living shit out of Otabek for daring to…

For making him  _ care _ and then betraying him.

Yuri had shoved Otabek out of the sleigh the minute the other man hadn’t said anything to negate Yuri’s fear. The blonde didn’t even care that the other man had fallen and taken a few moments to get back up. He felt a sickening joy at the way Otabek was favoring one of his arms for a moment in pain. He could feel the water in his eyes, beyond being mad he wanted to scream and hate and cry.  It wasn’t fair. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to give Otabek the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. Showing weakness was the single greatest mistake anyone ever made. Yuri had learned to hold it in check, but this was almost beyond his ability. He could feel the tears on the edge of his eyes, threatening even as he threw his head back to try and get the water to redistribute.

When he leveled his gaze again, Otabek was still standing in front of him, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and looking right back at Yuri with that taciturn face which only served to boil the blonde’s blood again.

“ _ Why _ ,” Yuri hissed through gritted teeth in a jaw clenched so tightly he felt as though it would shatter. 

Otabek’s eyes flickered away for a moment, and just as Yuri felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up, he answered. “It was a mistake.”

Yuri felt his body go rigid in a far-off sort of sense, like he was miles away from it all happening and everything was muted. Numb. He felt numb. Numb and so very, very stupid. With a body suddenly made of cement and lead, Yuri shoved at Otabek and intended to walk away, but when Otabek fell a full three steps back from the force Yuri hesitated and instead reached his hand up to his ear, where the device that kept him in this virtual world rested. Because he  _ had _ saved now. And beyond that, he gave exactly zero fucks about the integrity of any save file and outside of wanting to leave and be as far away from Otabek and anything remotely related to him as possible.

Before his fingers could even touch the earpiece Otabek’s hand caught his own. Yuri looked into the intense pair of eyes, expecting anger.

But not the sadness. Sadness and something like...longing?

That was fine, Yuri had enough rage in his own to spare. 

“Let go of me,” Yuri growled.

“Let me explain.” And damn it his voice sounded so  _ gentle _ . Like he  _ cared _ .

Yuri didn’t  _ want _ to  _ listen _ , he  _ wanted _ to be  **angry** . “What’s there to explain? You already said it was a mistake. Pretty fucking clear.”

“What do you think was a mistake?” Otabek raised an eyebrow.

“ _ Meeting  _ **_you_ ** !” 

Yuri slapped Otabek’s hand away and marched off, fighting back the tears that were already flooding his eyes. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand  _ him _ . All he could do was get far away from him and his body agreed, picking up his pace to a jog before it shifted full tilt into a run.

“YURA!”

The blonde shook his head at the loud voice from already far behind him. He wasn’t going to fall for it again. He wasn’t going to be dragged into any more of Otabek’s...everything. His breath was coming quicker, puffing out in streams of white like a train. His chest burned, ached. He wished the numbness from before would return. It was so much better than what he was feeling now. Like a string pulled too tight, stretched too thin. Like his whole body was jam packed with so much everything that he felt like he wanted to explode.

Instead he kept running, pushing past the feeling of icicles forming in his lungs, and wiping away the constant stream from his face with a futile gloved hand. 

_ You can see it. Call it. _

No. No he was not going to do this. Not that voice again.

_ I’ll lead it off, you two stay here. _

He didn’t want reminders of his stupid altruism.

_ Don’t you dare give up now! _

Yuri let out a howl of frustration and anger, steam billowing around him. He couldn’t make it stop.

_ It’s not mine. _

That stone face, softened with feeling, the way the fire danced in his eyes like  lightning. The utter terror of seeing so much blood on him, white hot and subzero cold simultaneously.

“Stop,” and his throat felt raw as he whispered it to himself.

_ You know nothing about this place, but you assume that everything is the same as the world outside of it. _

Good, something he could be angry at. Finally his brain was keeping up with him. But even as he thought that, the deep honeyed tones of Otabek’s words circled back and replayed, and Yuri could hear the absence of true judgement, the  _ need  _ for Yuri to understand.

_ All you’ve seen is the worst of it, and that’s my fault. _

Yuri couldn’t keep running anymore, he hurt too badly, breathing was too difficult now. In the cauldron of his mind, a thought – that all of this was virtual, perfectly recreated but  _ virtual _ –  bubbled up.  He slowed to an elderly-paced walk, leaning against the trees he passed as he went, borrowing their strength to shoulder any of the weight he carried.

_ I need you to trust me. _

He  _ had _ .

He  _ did _ . 

It had gotten him nothing, nothing but pain and heartache.

_ Not many people know anything about him. _

“ _ Stop _ ,” because the last thing he needed was Viktor mixed in as well.

Because he knew what was coming next.

_ My friends call me Beka. If running from monsters and dark lords doesn’t qualify you, I don’t know what will. _

He couldn’t go any further. His body gave out and he fell to his knees in the snow, his breath coming amidst hiccups and breaking waves of sobs. He covered his ears with his hands and screamed, wordless and visceral, trying to excise the poison that was killing him. Because that’s what he felt, huddled in the snow against a tree, like he was dying. Or some part of him was, anyway. 

There was a  _ reason _ Yuri didn’t have friends.

It had taken very little to shatter a young Yuri’s heart, and even as he scooped up the pieces and began the repairs, he vowed to never let anyone else in the world see it. To see him broken like that again. So he’d pieced back together what he could, and locked it away. There were some who got close, but even Viktor and Katsuki were kept a few steps away from the box he hid it in. 

_ Yura then. _

That voice, the for-once warm tone, and his mind was so kind as to provide an image of that smile –  so rare, so precious. It made Yuri’s stomach roll, threatening to revolt.

He  _ hurt _ .

Frozen and shaking fingers found the device again, running over the smooth surface. Yuri bit his lip and closed his eyes, trying to clamp down any one thing he could, any one thing to start the rebuild. That could be the start. He could leave the game, and never return. He sure as hell wanted no part of Beka, and this game  _ was _ Beka – _ OTABEK damn it! _ –  to him. 

But as he moved to disconnect, a loud sound stopped him dead.

Hoof beats.

Weirdly staggering heavy hoofbeats.

And then came the snorts, unearthly uneven breaths and high whinnies. Like horses, but decidedly not at the same time.

Self-preservation kicked in where the rest of him could not, and Yuri hunched down closer to the tree, praying he blended in with the ground and trunk well enough. Did horses see in color? Did  _ these _ horses see in color?

The beasts were upon him in no time, breaking into his sight from almost nowhere due to the thickness of the trees around them. They were huge, taller than Yuri was by a mile, at least 7 feet tall hoof to shoulder. Their skin was mottled and grey, rotting away completely in some places to show the bones beneath, while others were oozing open wounds. But they were thin, their ribs clearly defined, their flesh pulled taught over them like a too-tight spandex suit. Where their mane should have been was instead a mass of fur that naturally fell in sharp spikes, and their tails were the same. Huge antlers sprang from their bared skulls, their snouts ending in wicked teeth that burst past their lips and locked together to form a terribly violent cage. 

He was pretty sure their sunken-in eyes, glowing like hellfire, were going to haunt him in his nightmares. 

As they rushed past, Yuri tried to count them. Five? Five. Five of them. He had to hold his breath, both because of fear and the whirlwind of decay and the repulsive stench that swirled around the beasts. Yuri knew that smell from when he was very young, and the fire it touched in his mind threatened to engulf him.

A long room that, to a small and distraught Yuri, seemed cavernous. The hiss of hushed tones and whispers from people towering over him as they passed. The shaking grip of his grandfather’s hand holding his own tiny one, grounding him as both man and child leaned on each other to keep the despair at bay. The interminable walk towards the dais where his grandmother lay, so still, so peaceful, as though she would open her eyes at any moment and hug him again.

Death. The beasts rode on the winds of death.

He felt his stomach drop out completely and had to shove his head down into the leathers of his armor, trying to block out any of the smell.

As one, they let out a shriek that threatened to rupture his ear drums, sounding like the Golden eagles Yuri had seen in his homeland. A high sharp scream that led into a rasping wail.They were quickly out of sight again, their odd gait now better understood. Such big creatures, held together by skin alone it seemed. And that cry…

Yuri stood up slowly, adrenaline becoming the perfect antifreeze. He stared after the beasts, biting his lip.

They were headed exactly where he’d come from.

How far had he run?

Those things would eat up miles in seconds.

Yuri tried to tell himself he didn’t care. That Otabek could handle himself just fine. Hell, it wasn’t like Yuri was any kind of help in battle anyway. 

“He’s the strongest player here,” Yuri admonished, trying to banish the nagging concern that was steadily rising up inside of him.

Because Otabek –

He’d  _ fallen _ . Yuri could feel his stomach clench tight, gripped in the cold fist of realization. He’d fallen and  _ hurt his arm _ . The teen scrambled to remember all that he’d seen of Otabek. Scanning, skimming, searching desperately for any more of that weakness anywhere before in his memories. His mind came up completely empty, Otabek was nigh on impervious, until –

**_I was stuck on the bridge and then that dick came and...Magic happened. And then he wouldn’t say anything about it._ **

_ Magic? You should ask someone who’s a sorcerer, or warlock. They’d be able to answer you better. _

Yuri felt the world shifting under his feet, even as he picked them up and started to run, against all biological imperative, after the monsters.

_ Otabek was looking for something. _

The blonde narrowed his eyes, trying to fight the cold air that left his eyes dry and stinging now, exhausted as they were. What had Seung-Gil said?

**_What was he looking for? Does any of this stuff have anything in common?_ **

Yuri pushed forward faster, running now on that warm and tingly adrenaline that gave him wings.

_ These are all books on Manipulation Magic. _

Yuri almost tripped, his knees wobbling for a moment. Gritting his teeth, the teen pressed on, even as his lungs caught fire.

Manipulation magic? Magic that manipulated...what? 

Or who?

*~*~*~*

 

The beasts left such big sluices through the snow that running was easier, though the ground beneath him was soaked and slick with mud. He leaped over fallen logs and charged through clusters of bushes. He must have done the same before, but his overwhelming emotion had blinded him to it. He was glad that he caught up to the monsters at all, but then again it was easy enough when they’d stopped.

And completely surrounded a bleeding Otabek.

Yuri felt a dagger of fear spike through his chest. Blood. Otabek didn’t  _ bleed _ . He hadn’t seen any person  _ bleed _ here. 

The knight looked small standing in the center of a ring of the massive abominations, and without his armor there were great tears all over his clothes, mud and blood mixing in places as though he’d fallen to the ground multiple times. There was a nasty looking bite wound, a large chunk taken out of his sword arm that went deep enough to expose – Yuri’s stomach couldn’t handle another wave and finally ejected its contents.

Bone.

It exposed  _ bone _ .

The sound of his retching was the signal for time to start again, the beasts’ hooves thundering as they churned the ground. Yuri lifted his head, peering up through the long strands of his sweat-damp hair as they bit and nickered and kicked at a rolling, dodging, darting Otabek. The knight was a flash of movement, hidden by the heaving bodies of the creatures, visible only for milliseconds as the herd moved. 

“What are you  _ doing _ ?!” Otabek bellowed, his voice stretching over the din. 

He needn’t have strained, Yuri was pretty sure he would hear Beka’s voice in the midst of heavy artillery and mortaring as the world around them imploded.  

One of the creatures had finally noticed Yuri’s presence and broke away to lunge straight at him. The blonde jerked out of its direct path, reaching for the dagger on his hip and striking out at the beast’s flank in a desperate bid for some kind of retaliation. The blade sank in, but the skin peeled away as easily as a potato’s, leaving a long strip of blackened skin on the ground that quickly turned to ash. Not that Yuri had time to watch. The monster had turned its massive bulk around and was coming for another round, ignorant or uncaring of the wound Yuri had inflicted.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Yuri demanded as he tucked and rolled away from the huge gnashing teeth that had been only centimeters from his face not a moment before.

“Wendigoes-man eaters!” Otabek’s voice dopplered as the two men moved.

Yuri sprang back up to this feet and turned to run-to put some more distance between himself and the monster, but slammed immediately into the trunk of an enormous tree as thick and tall as the old ones he’d seen in a magazine from America-and the errant question of whether a car could drive through  _ this _ tree muted the pain just enough for it to come back with a vengeance. The sharp, head exploding pain forced a yell from him before he clutched his nose which was now bleeding from the impact. Just fucking perfect.

A sudden movement behind him, the sensation of presence, made Yuri jerk around and try to become one with the tree, his dagger raised high. But he was only greeted with Otabek, whose eyes screamed concern while the rest of his face spoke loudly of anger. 

The young knight cupped his hands in front of him and only then did Yuri realize what was sorely missing. “Where’s your sword?!” 

Otabek gave him the most incredulous look in Yuri’s short life. “Not now! They will  _ kill  _ you!”

Yuri had a split second to glare at the other man, snarling “ _ then why haven’t you killed  _ **_them_ ** _?!” _ before the raptor screech of a beast fast approaching spurred him to action. Instinctively he pressed forward, towards Beka, his body clearly understanding what his mind had not and jumping up to land a foot in the other man’s hands. Otabek immediately shoved upwards with all he could, launching Yuri up into the air.

There was a mad midair scramble as his mind calmly asked ‘ **_what now, genius_ ** ?’, but again muscles moved subconsciously and Yuri caught hold of a high branch, using the momentum of the jump to swing up and onto the limb all while praying silently that it would hold him.

Otabek’s silence did not go unnoticed, even in the hellish chaos.

It only took him a microsecond to look down, but it was quick enough to land him a front row seat to the sight of Otabek being thrown bodily away from his tree by one of the massive creatures with a painfully meaty swipe of its head.

“Beka!” Yuri screamed, horror at the blow and the accusation that burned his lips as it passed them. “You  _ can’t  _ call it, can you?!” 

Yuri locked up on the branch for a second, only a second, as he fought the urge to jump down to the other man’s aid. The beasts were converging, stomping huge hooves down on the ground where Otabek could only manage feeble rocks and rolls around the space. The beasts’ size worked in his favor just this once, all five crowding and shoving each other to try and kill him, their big bodies getting in each other’s way. 

For a split second there was a gap in the shifting, violent bodies, and Yuri’s eyes-full of fear and panic- met Otabek’s, which showed nothing but raw and exposed fragility. The words were lost to the miasma of beastial sounds but Yuri read those lips he’d only a short while ago been kissing.

“ _ No. I can’t. _ ”

Yuri lost sight of the knight in the sea of writhing mass, and scrambled to stand and draw his bow from thin air. His frayed mind couldn’t focus enough to make his water arrow, too preoccupied by dread and adrenaline, a heady cocktail of battery acid through his veins. With the flurry of dancing hooves, waiting for that telling crunch that would signal Otabek’s death, and his own failure to act. 

“Silver!” Yuri’s gaze snapped downwards, to the voice, to where Otabek stood behind the ring of wendigoes and ten or so feet away from Yuri’s tree. How he managed to escape them even for this moment Yuri would never know. Beka’s face was pale and out of breath, the behemoths only now noticing that he wasn’t in their death circle anymore. “Use silver arrows!”

His hand sped back to his quiver and took hold of an arrow, the argument for its veracity of silver on his tongue, but everything in that instant blew apart as one of the wendigoes reared up behind Otabek. It screamed and slammed its hooves straight into the knight’s back, sending him hurtling through the air towards the tree Yuri stood in. Yuri stared in horror as Otabek cried out in agony, the sound itself raspy and choked. Time slowed to let Yuri take in all the torturous details as Beka nearly collided with a tree trunk, clipping the side of it right along his ribs. Otabek, even in the pain and near-consciousness that he must have been in, threw a hand up to clutch at the bark he passed. It gripped his hand just enough to allow him to alter his trajectory, disappearing behind the tree.

Yuri dropped his bow and the arrow he had clutched hard enough to crack the shaft, moving at breakneck speed through the branches, towards the other side, trying desperately to catch any first glimpse of Beka. When he did it was almost too much. His body was twisted and laying limply in a pile of powdery winter. The snow was already starting to change color, a deep crimson blooming from somewhere near his head. There was no sound, no noticeable movement, no indication that Otabek was even still–

“BEKA!” Yuri screamed, trying to cut off where his mind was trying to take him. That was impossible. “BEK–AH!”

The tree beneath him shuddered, vibrations running right up from the branch into his body and jangling his brain. There was another monster cry, and this time Yuri could hear the thud that preceded the new, more violent, tremors. Yuri had no idea what it was, it all paled in comparison to the sight of his knight lying dead in the snow. The tree shook again and there was a loud snapping sound.

Yuri wasn’t entirely sure if it was the tree...or his sanity.

The blonde turned away from the horrid sight below and hightailed it through the tree, numb to the sting of smaller branches as they grabbed at and scratched his face. His bow bloomed from his tightened fist, and he already had an arrow nocked by the time he came into view of the monsters. One of them reared back with a shrill cry–

That immediately became garbled as Yuri let fly, burying his arrow down to the feathers in the wendigo’s exposed throat. He watched from a far-off and detached place in his mind as the beast’s head jerked to the side and it dropped back down to all fours, thrashing and gurgling. Even as the monster jerked around, trying to remove the silver burning away its skin and bone, Yuri was stringing another arrow.

The other monstrosities were  _ angry _ now, their herd mate already losing strength and falling to the ground. The last of its head and skull burned away, and the massive body hit the ground with a hollow thud at the same time Yuri fired again. He caught the next beast between the eyes, the silver of the arrowhead searing through its skull.

Its slurred and unearthly wail fell on deaf ears as Yuri stared down the next, but the remaining three proved more intelligent. Working together as one, two of them lurched back onto their hind legs and slammed their front hooves into the trunk of the tree with all the weight they had between them, while the third screamed and rose up to try to snap at the Ranger with its dagger-filled mouth. The force of their assault shook the tree, the vibrations echoing up into Yuri’s skull once again. His balance never wavered, however, as he drew again and fired.

The wendigo he’d aimed at jerked to the side in a bid to dodge, and another snatched the arrow in its wicked jaws, scorching its mouth but chomping down to shatter the arrow all the same. It spat out the pieces as it stared at Yuri, clearly intelligent enough to make a point, even if it was silently done.

Yuri felt something inside of him  _ writhe _ . If they were  _ smart, _ then they were  _ malicious _ , and something about that caused every last ounce of control to leave his body. White-hot,  _ violent _ rage filled him instead. Yuri felt a wide, insane grin spread over his face as he took two steps back on the branch. He reached back and took hold of five arrows, emptying his quiver.

And then he started to run. 

With all of his momentum and speed, the blonde ran down the length of the branch and springboarded out of the, well over the wendigoes’ heads. He twisted in mid-air, just as he started to fall, and strung all five arrows at once. The monsters turned as one to get him back in their sights, and just as Yuri passed their eye level, his fingers released the bowstring.

The wendigoes’ screams, in stereo, were nightmarish. Yuri could see the rage and pain in their eyes even as he tucked and rolled out of the fall, feeling something in his shoulder give way as he did. He pushed through the pain, but found he could no longer move his right arm, his bow falling uselessly from his limp and hanging hand. His eyes shot up as soon as he realized, fear bleeding into his veins at the sudden helplessness. 

But the arrows had flown true. Another of the wendigoes dropping as the destruction swept across its throat, eating through its neck and upwards until its skull simply fell from its body with a tiny thunk, before the body followed. Yuri forced himself to stand, watching one of the last manage to twist and turn its head enough to bite and yank the arrow from its chest. But the damage was already done, the silver infecting and corroding it away ravenously. The last one staggered forward, blinded by the arrows in both its eye sockets that had already eaten half its skull away, exposing grey oozing brain matter that hit the muddy ground at its feet with a thick wet plop. Yuri grabbed his dagger awkwardly in his offhand, knowing full well how this would end with him so handicapped.

The wendigo searched blindly, ears twitching, nostrils flaring. It stopped weaving its head and pointed an eyeless gaze directly at Yuri. The creature heaved, forcing itself through its creeping destruction to still run at him, mouth open wide, bottom jaw breaking off, tongue waving in the wind.

Yuri tightened his grip on his blade and prepared to strike or dodge. The death-mad beast charged full steam–

And collapsed under the weight of its own demise, inertia letting its lifeless body slide in the mud until it came to a stop right at Yuri’s feet. There was a long moment as silence took over the wintery world around him, and Yuri could feel the burn and buzz in his ears from just how still everything had become. He let out a shaky breath, and then another, the adrenaline high that he’d been riding coming to a definite and crashing halt. He felt heavy, and his arm twinged and ached, sharp needle pinpricks dancing just under the skin alongside ice-pick-sized ones.

He struggled to stay standing, and almost upended anyway, when a loud trumpeting fanfare filled up the emptiness around him and threatened to burst his eardrums. Golden light formed a circle at his feet that rose up quickly over his body and shrank above his head. It closed then shattered, sprinkling golden motes and sparkles liberally around and over him. Instantly his fatigue evaporated, his body surging with power and strength unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Even his arm was back, functional and restored. He flicked his hand and fingers this way in that as he marveled in wonder. 

Warmth filled his chest, and he rushed past the remnants of the wendigoes’ bodies, scattering the ashes without care as he started around the tree, expecting to see Otabek up and able like he himself was. Expecting to see anything, anything other than that lifeless body he’d last seen. 

When he finally got to the backside he found Otabek sitting up, back against the trunk, good hand over his chest. Yuri’s crunching steps in the snow halted, and immediately he could hear a wet, wheezing sound, a hitch and hiccup coming with every breath the knight took. His face was pale and bruised, his other arm still useless and gory at his side. Yuri stepped closer tentatively, like he was approaching a scared fawn, and kneeled next to Otabek.

“They’re dead.” The words sounded too loud to his own ears.

Otabek slowly, delicately turned his head, meeting eyes with the blonde. A lopsided pseudo-smile ghosted over his lips, before a great hacking cough took him, blood flying from his mouth as he tried to get it back under control. “G-good job. I he-heard the...the sound. You leveled...up.”

Yuri could only stare at the blood dripping from the corner of Beka’s mouth as the cough turned into long wheezing whines. The knight turned back to look straight ahead, his head leaning back against the tree, his eyes dipping dangerously close to shut. Yuri couldn’t stop himself from slowly reaching out and wiping away the blood with gentle fingers, whispering, “don’t die.”

Otabek laughed, or tried to, but again that nasty cough took him over. It took even longer for it to settle this time, the agony bright and clear in his unguarded expression. “Ow. Not gonna die.”

“Promise me.” Desperation sharpened his tone to a razor’s edge.

“I...promise…”

Yuri narrowed his eyes, but had to be satisfied with that. “What do I–what can I do? You’re…” Yuri had to bite back the whimper that threatened to escape. “You’re hurt. Bad.”

The knight looked back at Yuri and tried for a look of comfort, but it only made Yuri think of inert, peaceful,  _ lifeless  _ faces lying in long boxes. The blonde leaned in quickly and pressed a soft kiss to Otabek’s lips. “Please,” he whispered, his face hidden as he sank in against Beka’s side without letting an ounce of his weight press against his wounded knight’s broken body. “Please, don’t leave me.”

A heavy hand gently laid on his back, slowly rubbing a comforting circle. Otabek turned his head carefully, and softly–Yuri could only call it  _ nuzzled _ –the blonde, whispering softly. “Not...going anywhere.”

Yuri froze at the intimate contact, and the burning heat that flooded his system. Otabek’s voice in his ear...Beka’s breath on his neck...it sent shivers through Yuri’s body. He had to pull away, before his brain stopped functioning entirely.

“How–” Yuri stopped, meeting Otabek’s eyes. “The potion? The potion! You can take one of those right? That’ll heal you!”

“This is a lot...for one potion.” Otabek wheezed through something like a chuckle. “A healer…”

Yuri stood up, determination set firm on his face. “We’re going.”

Otabek tried to push away the other’s hands, protest on his lips. Yuri had already been through  _ enough _ because of  _ him _ . But the teen took hold of and  _ squeezed _ the knight’s good wrist and glared with the venom of a thousand Obscurité vipers.

“ _ We’re _ .  **_Going_ ** .”

What could he say to that?

Otabek complied, and soon Yuri had him moving at a snail’s pace, full of limping steps and long breaks for the knight’s battered ribs and struggling breaths. The blonde shouldered most of their weight, Otabek’s arm slung around Yuri’s neck. The knight found himself unable to look away from the other’s face, from the sheer willpower driving him-and them. 

And all he could think, as he watched the other so intently, was…

_ Oh shit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to leave a comment and let me know how you're feeling about the fic!


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